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THE  .  KINO    LISTENED    VERY    ATTENTIVELY, 

AND    THEN    SAID    TO    MADAME    DE    MAINTENON : 

"  AND    YOU,    MADAME, 

WHAT    DO    YOU    THINK    UPON    ALL    THIS?" 

—p.  240 
From  the  painting  by  Sir  John  Gilbert 


MEMOIRS     OF 

LOUIS     XIV     AND     HIS     COURT 
AND     OF     THE     REGENCY 

BY    THE    DUKE    OF   SAINT-SIMON 

VOLUME     I 


With    a    Special    Introduction 
an  J     Illustrations 


NEW     YORK. 

P    F    COLLIER    &    SON 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright  igio 
By  P.  F.  Collier  &  Son 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
SANTA  BARBARA  COLLEGE  LIBRARY 

i 

CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I 

PAGE 

My  Birth  and  Family. — Early  Life. — Desire  to  Join  the 
Army. — Enter  the  Musketeers. — The  Campaign  Com- 
mences.— Camp  of  Gevries. — Siege  of  Namur. — Dreadful 
Weather. — Gentlemen  Carrying  Corn. — Sufferings  during 
the  Siege. — The  Monks  of  Marlaigne. — Rival  Couriers. — 
Naval  Battle. — Playing  with  Fire-arms. — A  Prediction 
Verified 31 

CHAPTER  II 

The  King's  Natural  Children. — Proposed  Marriage  of  the 
Due  de  Chartres. — Influence  of  Dubois. — The  Duke  and 
the  King. — An  Apartment. — Announcement  of  the  Mar- 
riage.— Anger  of  Madame. — Household  of  the  Duchess. — 
Villars  and  Rochefort. — Friend  of  King's  Mistresses. — 
The  Marriage  Ceremony. — Toilette  of  the  Duchess. — Son 
of  Montbron. — Marriage  of  M.  du  Maine. — Duchess  of 
Hanover. — Due  de  Choiseul. — La  Grande  Mademoiselle   .     42 

CHAPTER  III 

Death  of  My  Father. — Anecdotes  of  Louis  XIII. — The  Car- 
dinal de  Richelieu. — The  Due  de  Bellegarde. — Madame 
de  Hautefort. — My  Father's  Enemy. — His  Services  and 
Reward. — A  Duel  against  Law. — An  Answer  to  a  Libel. — 
M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld. — My  Father's  Gratitude  to  Louis 
XIII 57 

CHAPTER  IV 

Position  of  the  Prince  of  Orange. — Strange  Conduct  of  the 
King. — Surprise  and  Indignation. — Battle  of  Neerwin- 
den. — My  Return  to  Paris. — Death  of  La  Vauguyon. — 
Symptoms  of  Madness. — Vauguyon  at  the  Bastille. — 
Projects  of  Marriage. — M.  de  Beauvilliers. — A  Negotia- 
tion for  a  Wife. — My  Failure. — Visit  to  La  Trappe  .       .     66 

Vol.  11  Memoirs — A 


4  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  V 

PAGE 

M.  de  Luxembourg's  Claim  of  Precedence. — Origin  of  the 
Claim. — Due  de  Piney. — Character  of  Harlay. — Progress 
of  the  Trial. — Luxembourg  and  Richelieu. — Double-deal- 
ing of  Harlay. — The  Due  de  Gesvres. — Return  to  the  Seat 
of  War. — Divers  Operations. — Origin  of  These  Memoirs  .     77 

CHAPTER  VI 

Quarrels  of  the  Princesses. — Mademoiselle  Choin. — A  Dis- 
graceful Affair. — M.  de  Noyon. — Comic  Scene  at  the 
Academie. — Anger  and  Forgiveness  of  M.  de  Noyon. — 
M.  de  Noailles  in  Disgrace. — How  He  Gets  into  Favour 
Again. — M.  de  Vendome  in  Command. — Character  of  M. 
de  Luxembourg. — The  Trial  for  Precedence  Again. — An 
Insolent  Lawyer. — Extraordinary  Decree       ....     86 

CHAPTER  VII 

Harlay  and  the  Dutch — Death  of  the  Princess  of  Orange — 
Count  Koenigsmarck. — A  New  Proposal  of  Marriage. — 
My  Marriage. — That  of  M.  de  Lauzun. — Its  Result. — La 
Fontaine  and  Mignard. — Illness  of  the  Marechal  de 
Lorges. — Operations  on  the  Rhine. — Village  of  Secken- 
heim. — An  Episode  of  War. — Cowardice  of  M.  du  Maine. — 
Despair  of  the  King,  Who  Takes  a  Knave  in  the  Act. — 
Bon  Mot  of  M.  d'Elboeuf 98 

CHAPTER  VIII 

The  Abbe  de  Fenelon. — The  Jansenists  and  St.  Sulpice. — 
Alliance  with  Madame  Guyon. — Preceptor  of  the  Royal 
Children. — Acquaintance  with  Madame  de  Maintenon. — 
Appointment  to  Cambrai. — Disclosure  of  Madame  Guyon's 
Doctrines. — Her  Disgrace. — Bossuet  and  Fenelon. — Two 
Rival  Books. — Disgrace  of  Fenelon 112 

CHAPTER  IX 

Death  of  Archbishop  Harlay. — Scene  at  Conflans. — "  The 
Good  Langres." — A  Scene  at  Marly. — Princesses  Smoke 
Pipes! — Fortunes  of  Cavoye. — Mademoiselle  de  Coet- 
logon. — Madame  de  Guise. — Madame  de  Miramion. — 
Madame  de  Sevigne. — Father  Seraphin. — An  Angry 
Bishop. — Death  of  La  Bruyere. — Burglary  by  a  Duke. — 
Proposed    Marriage    of    the    Due    de    Bourgogne. — The 


CONTENTS  5 

PAGE 

Duchesse  de  Lude. — A  Dangerous  Lady. — Madame  d'O. — 
Arrival  of  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne 122 

CHAPTER  X 

My  Return  to  Fontainebleau. — A  Calumny  at  Court. — Por- 
trait of  M.  de  La  Trappe. — A  False  Painter. — Fast  Living 
at  the  "  Desert." — Comte  d'Auvergne. — Perfidy  of  Har- 
lay. — M.  de  Monaco. — Madame  Panache. — The  Italian 
Actor  and  the  "False  Prude" 136 

CHAPTER  XI 

A  Scientific  Retreat. — The  Peace  of  Ryswick. — Prince  of 
Conti  King  of  Poland. — His  Voyage  and  Reception. — 
King  of  England  Acknowledged. — Due  de  Conde  in 
Burgundy. — Strange  Death  of  Santeuil. — Duties  of  the 
Prince  of  Darmstadt  in  Spain. — Madame  de  Maintenon's 
Brother. — Extravagant  Dresses. — Marriage  of  the  Due  de 
Bourgogne. — The  Bedding  of  the  Princesse. — Grand 
Balls. — A  Scandalous  Bird 144 

CHAPTER  XII 

An  Odd  Marriage. — Black  Daughter  of  the  King. — Travels 
of  Peter  the  Great. — Magnificent  English  Ambassador. — 
The  Prince  of  Parma. — A  Dissolute  Abbe. — Orondat. — 
Dispute  about  Mourning. — M.  de  Cambrai's  Book  Con- 
demned by  M.  de  La  Trappe. — Anecdote  of  the  Head  of 
Madame  de  Montbazon. — Condemnation  of  Fenelon  by 
the    Pope. — His    Submission 158 

CHAPTER  XIII 

Charnace. — An  Odd  Ejectment. — A  Squabble  at  Cards. — 
Birth  of  My  Son. — The  Camp  at  Compiegne. — Splendour 
of  Marechal  Boufflers. — Pique  of  the  Ambassadors. — 
Tesse's  Grey  Hat. — A  Sham  Siege. — A  Singular  Scene. — 
The  King  and  Madame  de  Maintenon. — An  Astonished 
Officer. — Breaking-up  of  the  Camp 170 

CHAPTER  XIV 

Gervaise,  Monk  of  La  Trappe. — His  Disgusting  Profligacy. — 
The  Author  of  the  Lord's  Prayer. — A  Struggle  for  Pre- 
cedence.— Madame    de    Saint-Simon. — The    End    of    the 


6  CONTENTS 

PACE 

Quarrel. — Death  of  the  Chevalier  de  Coislin. — A  Ludi- 
crous Incident. — Death  of  Racine. — The  King  and  the 
Poet. — King  Pays  Debts  of  Courtiers. — Impudence  of  M. 
de  Vendome. — A  Mysterious  Murder. — Extraordinary 
Theft 182 

CHAPTER  XV 

The  Farrier  of  Salon. — Apparition  of  a  Queen. — The  Far- 
rier Comes  to  Versailles. — Revelations  to  the  Queen. — 
Supposed  Explanation. — New  Distinctions  to  the  Bas- 
tards.— New  Statue  of  the  King. — Disappointment  of 
Harlay. — Honesty  of  Chamillart. — The  Comtesse  de 
Fiesque. — Daughter  of  Jacquier. — Impudence  of  Sau- 
mery. — Amusing  Scene. — Attempted   Murder       .       .       .  195 

CHAPTER  XVI 

Reform  at  Court. — Cardinal  Delfini. — Pride  of  M.  de 
Monaco. — Early  Life  of  Madame  de  Maintenon. — Ma- 
dame de  Navailles. — Balls  at  Marly. — An  Odd  Mask. — 
Great  Dancing. — Fortunes  of  Langlee. — His  Coarseness.— 
The  Abbe  de  Soubise. — Intrigues  for  His  Promotion. — 
Disgrace  and  Obstinacy  of  Cardinal  de  Bouillon  .       .       .  207 

CHAPTER  XVII 

A  Marriage  Bargain. — Mademoiselle  de  Mailly. — James  II. — 
Begging  Champagne. — A  Duel. — Death  of  Le  Notre. — His 
Character. — History  of  Vassor. — Comtesse  de  Verrue  and 
Her  Romance  with  M.  de  Savoie. — A  Race  of  Dwarfs. — 
An  Indecorous  Incident. — Death  of  M.  de  La  Trappe      .  222 

CHAPTER  XVIII 

Settlement  of  the  Spanish  Succession. — King  William  III. — 
New  Party  in  Spain. — Their  Attack  on  the  Queen. — Per- 
plexity of  the  King. — His  Will. — Scene  at  the  Palace. — 
News  Sent  to  France. — Council  at  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon's. — The  King's  Decision. — A  Public  Declaration. — 
Treatment  of  the  New  King. — His  Departure  for  Spain. — 
Reflections. — Philip  V.  Arrives  in  Spain. — The  Queen 
Dowager    Banished 233 

CHAPTER  XIX 
Marriage  of  Philip  V. — The  Queen's  Journey. — Rival  Dishes. 


CONTENTS  7 

PAGE 

— A  Delicate  Quarrel. — The  King's  Journey  to  Italy. — The 
Intrigues  against  Catinat. — Vaudemont's  Success. — Ap- 
pointment of  Villeroy. — The  First  Campaign. — A  Snuff- 
box.— Prince  Eugene's  Plan. — Attack  and  Defence  of 
Cremona. — Villeroy  Made  Prisoner. — Appointment  of  M. 
de  Vendome 247 

CHAPTER  XX 

Discontent  and  Death  of  Barbezieux. — His  Character. — Ele- 
vation of  Chamillart. — Strange  Reasons  of  His  Success. — 
Death  of  Rose. — Anecdotes. — An  Invasion  of  Foxes. — M. 
le  Prince. — A  Horse  upon  Roses. — Marriage  of  His 
Daughter. — His  Manners  and  Appearance     ....  262 

CHAPTER  XXI 

Monseigneur's  Indigestion. — The  King  Disturbed. — The 
Ladies  of  the  Halle. — Quarrel  of  the  King  and  His 
Brother. — Mutual  Reproaches. — Monsieur's  Confessors. — 
A  New  Scene  of  Wrangling. — Monsieur  at  Table. — He  Is 
Seized  with  Apoplexy. — The  News  Carried  to  Marly. — 
How  Received  by  the  King. — Death  of  Monsieur. — 
Various  Forms  of  Grief. — The  Due  de  Chartres       .       .  269 

CHAPTER  XXII 

The  Dead  Soon  Forgotten. — Feelings  of  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon. — And  of  the  Due  de  Chartres. — Of  the  Courtiers. — 
Madame's  Mode  of  Life. — Character  of  Monsieur. — Anec- 
dote of  M.  le  Prince. — Strange  Interview  of  Madame  de 
Maintenon  with  Madame. — Mourning  at  Court. — Death 
of  Henriette  d'Angleterre. — A  Poisoning  Scene. — The 
King  and  the  Accomplice 282 

CHAPTER  XXIII 

Scandalous  Adventure  of  the  Abbesse  de  la  Joye. — Anecdote 
of  Madame  de  Saint-Herem. — Death  of  James  II.  and 
Recognition  of  His  Son. — Alliance  against  France. — Scene 
at  St.  Maur.— Balls  and  Plays— The  "  Electra  "  of  Longe- 
pierre. — Romantic  Adventures  of  the  Abbe  de  Vatteville  295 

CHAPTER  XXIV 

Changes  in  the  Army. — I  Leave  the  Service. — Annoyance  of 
the   King. — The   Medallic   History  of   the  Reign.— Louis 


8  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

XIII. — Death  of  William  III. — Accession  of  Queen  Anne. 
— The  Alliance  Continued. — Anecdotes  of  Catinat. — Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon  and  the  King 305 

CHAPTER  XXV 

Anecdote  of  Canaples. — Death  of  the  Due  de  Coislin. — Anec- 
dotes of  His  Unbearable  Politeness. — Eccentric  Character. 
— President  de  Novion. — Death  of  M.  de  Lorges. — Death 
of  the  Duchesse  de  Gesvres 315 

CHAPTER  XXVI 

The  Prince  d'Harcourt. — His  Character  and  That  of  His 
Wife. — Odd  Court  Lady. — She  Cheats  at  Play. — Scene 
at  Fontainebleau. — Crackers  at  Marly. — Snowballing  a 
Princess. — Strange  Manners  of  Madame  d'Harcourt. — 
Rebellion  among  Her  Servants. — A  Vigorous  Chamber- 
maid      324 

CHAPTER  XXVII 

Madame  des  Ursins. — Her  Marriage  and  Character. — The 
Queen  of  Spain. — Ambition  of  Madame  de  Maintenon. — 
Coronation  of  Philip  V. — A  Cardinal  Made  Colonel. — 
Favourites  of  Madame  des  Ursins. — Her  Complete  Tri- 
umph.— A  Mistake. — A  Despatch  Violated. — Madame  des 
Ursins   in   Disgrace 332 

CHAPTER  XXVIII 

Appointment  of  the  Duke  of  Berwick. — Deception  Practised 
by  Orry. — Anger  of  Louis  XIV. — Dismissal  of  Madame 
des  Ursins. — Her  Intrigues  to  Return. — Annoyance  of  the 
King  and  Queen  of  Spain. — Intrigues  at  Versailles. — Tri- 
umphant Return  of  Madame  des  Ursins  to  Court. — Base- 
ness of  the  Courtiers. — Her  Return  to  Spain  Resolved  On  343 

CHAPTER  XXIX 

An  Honest  Courtier. — Robbery  of  Courtin  and  Fieubet. — An 
Important  Affair. — My  Interview  with  the  King. — His 
Jealousy  of  His  Authority. — Madame  La  Queue,  the 
King's  Daughter. — Battle  of  Blenheim  or  Hochstedt. — 
Our  Defeat. — Effect  of  the  News  on  the  King. — Public 


CONTENTS  9 

PAGE 

Grief  and  Public  Rejoicing. — Death  of  My  Friend  Mont- 
fort       355 

CHAPTER  XXX 

Naval  Battle  of  Malaga. — Danger  of  Gibraltar. — Duke  of 
Mantua  in  Search  of  a  Wife. — Duchesse  de  Lesdiguieres. 
— Strange  Intrigues. — Mademoiselle  d'Elboeuf  Carries  off 
the  Prize. — A  Curious  Marriage. — Its  Result. — History  of 
a  Conversion  to  Catholicism. — Attempted  Assassination. 
— Singular   Seclusion 370 

CHAPTER  XXXI 

Fascination  of  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne. — Fortunes  of 
Nangis. — He  Is  Loved  by  the  Duchesse  and  Her  Dame 
d'Atours. — Discretion  of  the  Court. — Maulevrier. — His 
Courtship  of  the  Duchess. — Singular  Trick. — Its  Strange 
Success. — Mad  Conduct  of  Maulevrier. — He  Is  Sent  to 
Spain. — His  Adventures  There. — His  Return  and  Tragi- 
cal  Catastrophe 381 

CHAPTER  XXXII 

Death  of  M.  de  Duras. — Selfishness  of  the  King. — Anecdote 
of  Puysieux. — Character  of  Pontchartrain. — Why  He 
Ruined  the  French  Fleet. — Madame  des  Ursins  at  Last 
Resolves  to  Return  to  Spain. — Favours  Heaped  upon 
Her. — M.  de  Lauzun  at  the  Army. — His  bon  mot. — Con- 
duct of  M.  de  Vendome. — Disgrace  and  Character  of  the 
Grand   Prieur 394 

CHAPTER  XXXIII 

A  Hunting  Adventure. — Story  and  Catastrophe  of  Fargues. 
— Death  and  Character  of  Ninon  de  l'Enclos. — Odd  Ad- 
venture of  Courtenvaux. — Spies  at  Court. — New  Enlist- 
ment.— Wretched  State  of  the  Country. — Balls  at  Marly  .  405 

CHAPTER  XXXIV 

Arrival  of  Vendome  at  Court. — Character  of  That  Disgust- 
ing Personage. — Rise  of  Cardinal  Alberoni. — Vendome's 
Reception  at  Marly. — His  Unheard-of  Triumph. — His 
High  Flight. — Returns  to  Italy. — Battle  of  Calcinate — 
Condition  of  the  Army. — Pique  of  the  Marechal  de 
Villeroy. — Battle  of  Ramillies. — Its  Consequences       .       .  415 


io  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XXXV 

PACB 

Abandonment  of  the  Siege  of  Barcelona. — Affairs  of  Italy. 
— La  Feuillade. — Disastrous  Rivalries. — Conduct  of  M. 
d'Orleans. — The  Siege  of  Turin. — Battle. — Victory  of 
Prince  Eugene. — Insubordination  in  the  Army. — Retreat. — 
M.  d'Orleans  Returns  to  Court. — Disgrace  of  La  Feuillade  427 

CHAPTER  XXXVI 

Measures  of  Economy. — Financial  Embarrassments. — The 
King  and  Chamillart. — Tax  on  Baptisms  and  Marriages. 
— Vauban's  Patriotism. — Its  Punishment. — My  Action 
with  M.  de  Brissac. — I  Appeal  to  the  King. — The  Result. 
—I  Gain  My  Action 437 

CHAPTER  XXXVII 

My  Appointment  as  Ambassador  to  Rome. — How  It  Fell 
Through. — Anecdotes  of  the  Bishop  of  Orleans. — A  Droll 
Song. — A  Saint  in  Spite  of  Himself. — Fashionable  Crimes. 
— A  Forged  Genealogy. — Abduction  of  Beringhen. — The 
Parvulos  of  Meudon  and  Mademoiselle  Choin      .       .       .  448 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

Death  and  Last  Days  of  Madame  de  Montespan. — Selfish- 
ness of  the  King. — Death  and  Character  of  Madame  de 
Nemours. — Neufchatel  and  Prussia. — Campaign  of  Vil- 
lars. — Naval  Successes. — Inundations  of  the  Loire. — Siege 
of  Toulon. — A  Quarrel  about  News. — Quixotic  Despatches 
of  Tesse 464 

CHAPTER  XXXIX 

Precedence  at  the  Communion  Table. — The  King  Offended 
with  Madame  de  Torcy. — The  King's  Religion. — Atheists 
and  Jansenists. — Project  against  Scotland. — Preparations. 
— Failure. — The  Chevalier  de  St.  George. — His  Return  to 
Court 479 

CHAPTER  XL 

Death  and  Character  of  Brissac. — Brissac  and  the  Court 
Ladies. — The  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne. — Scene  at  the  Carp 
Basin. — King's  Selfishness. — The  King  Cuts  Samuel 
Bernard's  Purse. — A  Vain  Capitalist. — Story  of  Leon  and 


CONTENTS  ir 

PAGE 

Florence  the  Actress. — His  Loves  with  Mademoiselle  de 
Roquelaure. — Run-away  Marriage. — Anger  of  Madame  de 
Roquelaure. — A  Furious  Mother. — Opinions  of  the  Court. 
— A  Mistake. — Interference  of  the  King. — Fate  of  the 
Couple 492 

CHAPTER  XLI 

The  Due  d'Orleans  in  Spain. — Offends  Madame  des  Ursins 
and  Madame  de  Maintenon. — Laziness  of  M.  de  Vendome 
in  Flanders. — Battle  of  Oudenarde. — Defeat  and  Disasters. 
— Difference  of  M.  de  Vendome  and  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  505 

CHAPTER  XLII 

Conflicting  Reports.— Attacks  on  the  Due  de  Bourgogne.— 
The  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  Acts  against  Vendome. — 
Weakness  of  the  Duke. — Cunning  of  Vendome. — The 
Siege  of  Lille. — Anxiety  for  a  Battle. — Its  Delay. — Con- 
duct of  the  King  and  Monseigneur. — A  Picture  of  Royal 
Family  Feeling. — Conduct  of  the  Marechal  de  BoufHers  .  514 

CHAPTER  XLIII 

Equivocal  Position  of  the  Due  de  Bourgogne. — His  Weak 
Conduct. — Concealment  of  a  Battle  from  the  King. — Re- 
turn of  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  to  Court. — Incidents  of  His 
Reception. — Monseigneur. — Reception  of  the  Due  de 
Berry. — Behaviour  of  the  Due  de  Bourgogne. — Anecdotes 
of  Gamaches. — Return  of  Vendome  to  Court. — His  Star 
Begins  to  Wane. — Contrast  of  Boufflers  and  Vendome. — 
Chamillart's  Project  for  Retaking  Lille. — How  It  Was 
Defeated  by  Madame  de  Maintenon 525 

CHAPTER  XLIV 

Tremendous  Cold  in  France. — Winters  of  1708- 1709. — 
Financiers  and  the  Famine. — Interference  of  the  Parlia- 
ments of  Paris  and  Dijon. — Dreadful  Oppression. — Misery 
of  the  People. — New  Taxes. — Forced  Labour. — General 
Ruin. — Increased  Misfortunes. — Threatened  Regicide. — 
Procession  of  Saint  Genevieve. — Offerings  of  Plate  to  the 
King.— Discontent  of  the  People. — A  Bread  Riot,  How 
Appeased 537 

CHAPTER  XLV 

M.  de  Vendome  out  of  Favour. — Death  and  Character  of 
the  Prince  de  Conti. — Fall  of  Vendome. — Puysegur's  In- 


12  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

terview  with  the  King. — Madame  de  Bourgogne  against 
Vendome. — Her  Decided  Conduct. — Vendome  Excluded 
from  Marly. — He  Clings  to  Meudon. — From  Which  He  is 
also  Expelled. — His  Final  Disgrace  and  Abandonment. — 
Triumph  of  Madame  de  Maintenon 551 

CHAPTER  XLVI 

Death  of  Pere  La  Chaise. — His  Infirmities  in  Old  Age. — 
Partiality  of  the  King. — Character  of  Pere  La  Chaise. — 
The  Jesuits. — Choice  of  a  New  Confessor. — Fagon's 
Opinion. — Destruction  of  Port  Royal. — Jansenists  and 
Molinists. — Pascal. — Violent  Oppression  of  the  Inhabi- 
tants of  Port  Royal 563 

CHAPTER  XLVII 

Death  of  D'Avaux.— A  Quarrel  about  a  Window. — Louvois 
and  the  King. — Anecdote  of  Boisseuil. — Madame  de  Main- 
tenon  and  M.  de  Beauvilliers. — Harcourt  Proposed  for  the 
Council. — His  Disappointment. — Death  of  M.  le  Prince. — 
His  Character. — Treatment  of  His  Wife. — His  Love  Ad- 
ventures.— His  Madness. — A  Confessor  Brought. — Nobody 
Regrets  Him 571 

CHAPTER  XLVIII 

Progress  of  the  War. — Simplicity  of  Chamillart. — The  Im- 
perialists and  the  Pope. — Spanish  Affairs. — Due  d'Orleans 
and  Madame  des  Ursins. — Arrest  of  Flotte  in  Spain. — 
Discovery  of  the  Intrigues  of  the  Due  d'Orleans. — Cabal 
against  Him. — His  Disgrace  and  Its  Consequences   .       .  584 

CHAPTER  XLIX 

Danger  of  Chamillart. — Witticism  of  D'Harcourt. — Faults  of 
Chamillart. — Court  Intrigues  against  Him. — Behaviour  of 
the  Courtiers. — Influence  of  Madame  de  Maintenon. — 
Dignified  Fall  of  Chamillart. — He  is  Succeeded  by  Voysin. 
— First  Experience  of  the  New  Minister. — The  Campaign 
in  Flanders. — Battle  of  Malplaquet 592 

CHAPTER  L 

Disgrace  of  the  Due  d'Orleans. — I  Endeavour  to  Separate 
Him  from  Madame  d'Argenton. — Extraordinary  Reports. 


CONTENTS  13 

PAGE 

— My  Various  Colloquies  with  Him. — The  Separation. — 
Conduct  of  Madame  d'Argenton. — Death  and  Character 
of  M.  le  Due. — The  After-suppers  of  the  King  .       .       .  605 

CHAPTER  LI 

Proposed  Marriage  of  Mademoiselle. — My  Intrigues  to  Bring 
It  About. — The  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  and  Other  Allies. 
— The  Attack  Begun. — Progress  of  the  Intrigue. — Economy 
at  Marly. — The  Marriage  Agreed  Upon. — Scene  at  Saint- 
Cloud. — Horrible  Reports. — The  Marriage. — Madame  de 
Saint-Simon. — Strange  Character  of  the  Duchesse  de 
Berry 616 

CHAPTER  LII 

Birth  of  Louis  XV. — The  Marechale  de  la  Meilleraye. — 
Saint-Ruth's  Cudgel. — The  Cardinal  de  Bouillon's  De- 
sertion from  France. — Anecdotes  of  His  Audacity     .       .  629 

CHAPTER  LIII 

Imprudence  of  Villars. — The  Danger  of  Truthfulness. — 
Military  Mistakes. — The  Fortunes  of  Berwick. — The  Son 
of  James. — Berwick's  Report  on  the  Army. — Imprudent 
Saying  of  Villars. — "  The  Good  Little  Fellow "  in  a 
Scrape. — What   Happens  to   Him 636 

CHAPTER  LIV 

Duchesse  de  Berry  Drunk. — Operations  in  Spain. — Vendome 
Demanded  by  Spain. — His  Affront  by  the  Duchesse  de 
Bourgogne. — His  Arrival. — Staremberg  and  Stanhope. — 
The  Flag  of  Spain  Leaves  Madrid. — Entry  of  the  Arch- 
duke.— Enthusiasm  of  the  Spaniards. — The  King  Returns. 
— Strategy  of  Staremberg. — Affair  of  Brighuega- — Battle 
of  Villaviciosa. — Its  Consequences  to  Vendome  and  to 
Spain 645 


CHAPTER  LV 

State  of  the  Country. — New  Taxes. — The  King's  Conscience 
Troubled. — Decision  of  the  Sorbonne. — Debate  in  the 
Council. — Effect  of  the  Royal  Tithe. — Tax  on  Agioteurs. — 


14  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Merriment    at    Court. — Death    of    a    Son    of    Marechal 
Boufflers. — The    Jesuits 658 

CHAPTER  LVI 

My  Interview  with  Du  Mont. — A  Mysterious  Communication. 
— Anger  of  Monseigneur  against  Me. — Household  of  the 
Duchesse  de  Berry. — Monseigneur  Taken  111  of  the  Small- 
pox.— Effect  of  the  News. — The  King  Goes  to  Meudon. — 
The  Danger  Diminishes. — Madame  de  Maintenon  at 
Meudon. — The  Court  at  Versailles. — Hopes  and  Fears. — 
The  Danger  Returns. — Death  of  Monseigneur. — Conduct 
of  the  King 666 

CHAPTER  LVII 

A  Rumour  Reaches  Versailles. — Aspect  of  the  Court. — 
Various  Forms  of  Grief. — The  Due  d'Orleans. — The  News 
Confirmed  at  Versailles. — Behaviour  of  the  Courtiers. — 
The  Due  and  Duchesse  de  Berry. — The  Due  and  Duchesse 
de  Bourgogne. — Madame. — A  Swiss  Asleep. — Picture  of  a 
Court. — The  Heir-Apparent's  Night. — The  King  Returns 
to  Marly. — Character  of  Monseigneur. — Effect  of  His 
Death 680 


CHAPTER  LVIII 

State  of  the  Court  at  Death  of  Monseigneur. — Conduct  of 
the  Dauphin  and  the  Dauphine. — The  Duchesse  de  Berry. 
— My  Interview  with  the  Dauphin. — He  is  Reconciled  with 
M.  d'Orleans 694 


CHAPTER  LIX 

Warnings  to  the  Dauphin  and  the  Dauphine. — The  Dauphine 
Sickens  and  Dies. — Illness  of  the  Dauphin. — His  Death. — 
Character  and  Manners  of  the  Dauphine. — And  of  the 
Dauphin 711 


CHAPTER  LX 

Certainty  of  Poison. — The  Supposed  Criminal. — Excitement 
of  the  People  against  M.  d'Orleans. — The  Cabal. — My 
Danger  and  Escape. — The  Dauphin's  Casket  ....  727 


CONTENTS  IS 

CHAPTER  LXI 

FAGS 

The  King's  Selfishness. — Defeat  of  the  Czar. — Death  of 
Catinat. — Last  Days  of  Vendome. — His  Body  at  the 
Escurial. — Anecdote  of  Harlay  and  the  Jacobins. — Truce 
in    Flanders. — Wolves 740 

CHAPTER  LXII 

Settlement  of  the  Spanish  Succession. — Renunciation  of 
France. — Comic  Failure  of  the  Due  de  Berry. — Anecdotes 
of  M.  de  Chevreuse. — Father  Daniel's  History  and  Its 
Reward 751 

CHAPTER  LXIII 

The  Bull  Unigcnitus. — My  Interview  with  Father  Tellier. — 
Curious  Inadvertence  of  Mine. — Peace. — Due  de  la  Roche- 
foucauld.— A  Suicide  in  Public. — Charmel. — Two  Gay 
Sisters 764 

CHAPTER  LXIV 

The  King  of  Spain  a  Widower. — Intrigues  of  Madame  des 
Ursins. — Choice  of  the  Princes  of  Parma. — The  King  of 
France  Kept  in  the  Dark. — Celebration  of  the  Marriage. — 
Sudden  Fall  of  the  Princesse  des  Ursins. — Her  Expulsion 
from   Spain 777 

CHAPTER  LXV 

The  King  of  Spain  Acquiesces  in  the  Disgrace  of  Madame 
des  Ursins. — Its  Origin. — Who  Struck  the  Blow. — Her 
Journey  to  Versailles. — Treatment  There. — My  Interview 
with  Her. — She  Retires  to  Genoa. — Then  to  Rome. — Dies  795 

CHAPTER  LXVI 

Sudden  Illness  of  the  Due  de  Berry. — Suspicious  Symptoms. 
— The  Duchess  Prevented  from  Seeing  Him. — His  Death. 
— Character. — Manners  of  the  Duchesse  de  Berry     .       .  806 

CHAPTER  LXVII 

Maisons  Seeks  My  Acquaintance. — His  Mysterious  Manner. 
— Increase  of  the  Intimacy. — Extraordinary  News. — The 


16  CONTENTS 

PAGB 

Bastards  Declared  Princes  of  the  Blood. — Rage  of  Maisons 
and  Noailles. — Opinion  of  the  Court  and  Country     .       .  814 

CHAPTER  LXVIII 

The  King  Unhappy  and  111  at  Ease. — Court  Paid  to  Him. — 
A  New  Scheme  to  Rule  Him. — He  Yields. — New  Annoy- 
ance.— His  Will. — Anecdotes  Concerning  It. — Opinions  of 
the  Court.— M.  du  Maine 821 

CHAPTER  LXIX 

A  New  Visit  from  Maisons. — His  Violent  Project. — My  Ob- 
jections.— He  Persists. — His  Death  and  That  of  His  Wife. 
— Death  of  the  Due  de  Beauvilliers. — His  Character. — Of 
the  Cardinal  d'Estrees. — Anecdotes. — Death  of  Fenelon   .  833 

CHAPTER  LXX 

Character  and  Position  of  the  Due  d'Orleans. — His  Man- 
ners, Talents,  and  Virtues. — His  Weakness. — Anecdote  Il- 
lustrative Thereof. — The  "  Debonnaire." — Adventure  of 
the  Grand  Prieur  in  England. — Education  of  the  Due 
d'Orleans. — Character  of  Dubois. — His  Pernicious  Influ- 
ence.— The  Duke's  Emptiness. — His  Deceit. — His  Love 
of  Painting. — The  Fairies  at  His  Birth. — The  Duke's 
Timidity. — An  Instance  of  His  Mistrustfulness  .       .       .  845 

CHAPTER  LXXI 

The  Duke  Tries  to  Raise  the  Devil. — Magical  Experiments. 
— His  Religious  Opinions. — Impiety. — Reads  Rabelais  at 
Church. — The  Duchesse  d'Orleans. — Her  Character. — Her 
Life  with  Her  Husband. — My  Discourses  with  the  Duke 
on  the  Future. — My  Plans  of  Government. — A  Place  at 
Choice  Offered  Me. — I  Decline  the  Honour. — My  Reason. 
— National  Bankruptcy. — The  Duke's  Anger  at  My  Re- 
fusal.— A  Final   Decision 860 

CHAPTER  LXXII 

The  King's  Health  Declines.— Bets  about  His  Death.— Lord 
Stair. — My  New  Friend. — The  King's  Last  Hunt. — And 
Last  Domestic  and  Public  Acts. — Doctors. — Opium. — The 
King's  Diet. — Failure  of  His  Strength. — His  Hopes  of  Re- 
covery.— Increased  Danger. — Codicil  to  His  Will. — Inter- 
view  with   the   Due    d'Orleans. — With   the    Cardinal    de 


CONTENTS  17 

PAGE 

Noailles. — Address  to  His  Attendants. — The  Dauphin 
Brought  to  Him. — His  Last  Words. — An  Extraordinary 
Physician. — The  Courtiers  and  the  Due  d'Orleans. — Con- 
duct of  Madame  de  Maintenon. — The  King's  Death  .       .  869 

CHAPTER  LXXIII 

Early  Life  of  Louis  XIV. — His  Education. — His  Enormous 
Vanity. — His  Ignorance. — Cause  of  the  War  with  Hol- 
land.— His  Mistakes  and  Weakness  in  War. — The  Ruin 
of  France. — Origin  of  Versailles. — The  King's  Love  of 
Adulation,  and  Jealousy  of  People  Who  Came  Not  to 
Court. — His  Spies. — His  Vindictiveness. — Opening  of  Let- 
ters.— Confidence  Sometimes  Placed  in  Him. — A  Lady  in 
a  Predicament 885 

CHAPTER  LXXIV 

Excessive  Politeness. — Influence  of  the  Valets. — How  the 
King  Drove  Out. — Love  of  Magnificence. — His  Buildings. 
— Versailles. — The  Supply  of  Water. — The  King  Seeks  for 
Quiet. — Creation  of  Marly. — Tremendous  Extravagance  .  896 

CHAPTER  LXXV 

Amours  of  the  King. — La  Valliere. — Montespan. — Scanda- 
lous Publicity. — Temper  of  Madame  de  Montespan. — Her 
Unbearable  Haughtiness. — Other  Mistresses. — Madame  de 
Maintenon. — Her  Fortunes. — Her  Marriage  with  Scar- 
ron. — His  Character  and  Society. — How  She  Lived  After 
His  Death. — Gets  into  Better  Company. — Acquaintance 
with  Madame  de  Montespan. — The  King's  Children. — His 
Dislike  of  Widow  Scarron. — Purchase  of  the  Maintenon 
Estate. — Further  Demands. — M.  du  Maine  on  His  Travels. 
— Montespan's  Ill-humour. — Madame  de  Maintenon  Sup- 
plants Her. — Her  Bitter  Annoyance. — Progress  of  the 
New  Intrigue. — Marriage  of  the  King  and  Madame  de 
Maintenon 902 


CHAPTER  LXXVI 

Character  of  Madame  de  Maintenon. — Her  Conversation. — 
Her  Narrow-mindedness. — Her  Devotion. — Revocation  of 
the  Edict  of  Nantes. — Its  Fatal  Consequences. — Saint- 
Cyr. — Madame  de  Maintenon  Desires  Her  Marriage  to  be 
Declared. — Her  Schemes. — Counterworked  by  Louvois. — 


18  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

His  Vigorous  Conduct  and  Sudden  Death. — Behaviour  of 
the  King. — Extraordinary  Death  of  Seron   ....  912 

CHAPTER  LXXVII 

Daily  Occupations  of  Madame  de  Maintenon. — Her  Policy. — 
How  She  Governed  the  King's  Affairs. — Connivance  with 
the  Ministers. — Anecdote  of  Le  Tellier. — Behaviour  of  the 
King  to  Madame  de  Maintenon. — His  Hardness. — Selfish- 
ness.— Want  of  Thought  for  Others. — Anecdotes. — 
Resignation  of  the  King. — Its  Causes. — The  Jesuits  and 
the  Doctors. — The  King  and  Lay  Jesuits       ....  923 

CHAPTER  LXXVIII 

External  Life  of  Louis  XIV. — At  the  Army. — Etiquette  of 
the  King's  Table. — Court  Manners  and  Customs. — The 
Rising  of  the  King. — Morning  Occupations. — Secret 
Amours. — Going  to  Mass. — Councils. — Thursdays. — Fri- 
days.— Ceremony  of  the  King's  Dinner. — The  King's 
Brother. — After  Dinner.— The  Drive. — Walks  at  Marly 
and  Elsewhere. — Stag-hunting. — Play-tables. — Lotteries. — 
Visits  to  Madame  de  Maintenon. — Supper. — The  King  Re- 
tires to  Rest. — Medicine  Days. — King's  Religious  Observ- 
ances.— Fervency  in  Lent. — At  Mass. — Costume. — Polite- 
ness of  the  King  for  the  Court  of  Saint-Germain. — 
Feelings  of  the  Court  at  His  Death. — Relief  of  Madame 
de  Maintenon. — Of  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans. — Of  the  Court 
Generally. — Joy  of  Paris  and  the  Whole  of  France. — 
Decency  of  Foreigners. — Burial  of  the  King     ....  933 

CHAPTER  LXXIX 

Surprise  of  M.  d'Orleans  at  the  King's  Death. — My  Inter- 
view with  Him. — Dispute  about  Hats. — M.  du  Maine  at  the 
Parliament. — His  Reception. — My  Protest. — The  King's 
Will. — Its  Contents  and  Reception. — Speech  of  the  Due 
d'Orleans. — Its  Effect. — His  Speech  on  the  Codicil. — Vio- 
lent Discussion. — Curious  Scene. — Interruption  for  Dinner. 
— Return  to  the  Parliament. — Abrogation  of  the  Codicil. — 
New  Scheme  of  Government. — The  Regent  Visits  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon. — The  Establishment  of  Saint-Cyr. — 
The  Regent's  Liberality  to  Madame  de  Maintenon   .       .  948 

CHAPTER  LXXX 

The  Young  King's  Cold. — Lettres  des  Cachet  Revived. — A 
Melancholy    Story. — A    Loan    from    Crosat. — Retrench- 


CONTENTS  19 

PAGE 

ments. — Unpaid  Ambassadors. — Council  of  the  Regency. — 
Influence  of  Lord  Stair. — The  Pretender. — His  Departure 
from  Bar. — Colonel  Douglas. — The  Pursuit. — Adventure 
at  Nonancourt. — Its  Upshot. — Madame  l'Hospital. — In- 
gratitude  of   the    Pretender 962 

CHAPTER  LXXXI 

Behaviour  of  the  Duchesse  de  Berry. — Her  Arrogance 
Checked  by  Public  Opinion. — Walls  up  the  Luxembourg 
Garden. — La  Muette. — Her  Strange  Amour  with  Rion. — 
Extraordinary  Details. — The  Duchess  at  the  Carmelites. 
— Weakness  of  the  Regent. — His  Daily  Round  of  Life. — 
His  Suppers. — How  He  Squandered  His  Time. — His  Im- 
penetrability.— Scandal  of  His  Life. — Public  Balls  at 
the  Opera 974 

CHAPTER  LXXXII 

First  Appearance  of  Law. — His  Banking  Project  Supported 
by  the  Regent. — Discussed  by  the  Regent  with  Me. — Ap- 
proved by  the  Council  and  Registered. — My  Interviews 
with  Law. — His  Reasons  for  Seeking  My  Friendship. — 
Arouet   de   Voltaire 982 


CHAPTER  LXXXIII 

Rise  of  Alberoni. — Intimacy  of  France  and  England. — 
Gibraltar  Proposed  to  be  Given  Up. — Louville  the  Agent. 
— Hie  Departure. — Arrives  at  Madrid. — Alarm  of  Albe- 
roni.— His  Audacious  Intrigues. — Louville  in  the  Bath. — 
His  Attempts  to  See  the  King. — Defeated. — Driven  out  of 
Spain. — Impudence  of  Alberoni. — Treaty  between  France 
and  England. — Stipulation  with  Reference  to  the  Pre- 
tender   989 

CHAPTER  LXXXIV 

The  Lieutenant  of  Police. — Jealousy  of  Parliament. — Arrest 
of  Pomereu  Resolved  On. — His  Imprisonment  and  Sud- 
den Release. — Proposed  Destruction  of  Marly. — How  I 
Prevented  It. — Sale  of  the  Furniture. — I  Obtain  the 
Grandes  Entrees. — Their  Importance  and  Nature. — After- 
wards Lavished  Indiscriminately. — Adventure  of  the 
Diamond  called  "  The  Regent." — Bought  for  the  Crown 
of  France 998 


20  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  LXXXV 

PAGE 

Death  of  the  Duchesse  de  Lesdiguieres. — Cavoye  and  His 
Wife. — Peter  the  Great. — His  Visit  to  France. — Enmity 
to  England. — Its  Cause. — Kourakin,  the  Russian  Am- 
bassador.— The  Czar  Studies  Rome. — Makes  Himself  the 
Head  of  Religion. — New  Desires  for  Rome. — Ultimately 
Suppressed. — Preparations  to  Receive  the  Czar  at  Paris. 
— His  Arrival  at  Dunkerque. — At  Beaumont. — Dislikes 
the  Fine  Quarters  Provided  for  Him. — His  Singular 
Manners,  and  Those  of  His  Suite 1008 

CHAPTER  LXXXVI 

Personal  Appearance  of  the  Czar. — His  Meals. — Invited  by 
the  Regent. — His  Interview  with  the  King, — He  Returns 
the  Visit. — Excursion  in  Paris. — Visits  Madame. — Drinks 
Beer  at  the  Opera. — At  the  Invalides. — Meudon. — Issy. — 
The  Tuileries. — Versailles. — Hunt  at  Fontainebleau. — 
Saint-Cyr. — Extraordinary  Interview  with  Madame  de 
Maintenon. — My  Meeting  with  the  Czar  at  D'Antin's. — 
The  Ladies  Crowd  to  See  Him. — Interchange  of  Pres- 
ents.— A  Review. — Party  Visits. — Desire  of  the  Czar  to 
Be   United   to    France 1017; 

CHAPTER  LXXXVII 

Courson  in  Languedoc. — Complaints  of  Perigueux. — Depu- 
ties to  Paris. — Disunion  at  the  Council. — Intrigues  of  the 
Due  de  Noailles. — Scene. — I  Support  the  Perigueux  Peo- 
ple.— Triumph. — My  Quarrel  with  Noailles. — The  Order 
of  the   Pavilion 1027 

CHAPTER  LXXXVIII 

Policy  and  Schemes  of  Alberoni. — He  is  Made  a  Cardinal. 
— Other  Rewards  Bestowed  on  Him. — Dispute  with  the 
Majordomo. — An  Irruption  into  the  Royal  Apartment. — 
The  Cardinal  Thrashed. — Extraordinary  Scene         .       .   1035 

CHAPTER  LXXXIX 

Anecdote  of  the  Due  d'Orleans. — He  Pretends  to  Reform 
— Trick  Played  upon  Me. — His  Hoaxes. — His  Panegyric 
of  Me. — Madame  de  Sabran. — How  the  Regent  Treated 
His  Mistresses       .       .       ..      .       .      ...      .........  1041 


CONTENTS  21 

CHAPTER  XC 

PAGE 

Encroachments  of  the  Parliament. — The  Money  Edict. — 
Conflict  of  Powers. — Vigorous  Conduct  of  the  Parlia- 
ment.— Opposed  with  Equal  Vigour  by  the  Regent. — 
Anecdote  of  the  Duchesse  du  Maine. — Further  Proceed- 
ings of  the  Parliament. — Influence  of  the  Reading  of 
Memoirs. — Conduct  of  the  Regent. — My  Political  Atti- 
tude.— Conversation  with  the  Regent  on  the  Subject  of 
the  Parliament. — Proposal  to  Hang  Law. — Meeting  at 
My  House. — Law  Takes  Refuge  in  the  Palais  Royal     .   1046 

CHAPTER  XCI 

Proposed  Bed  of  Justice. — My  Scheme. — Interview  with  the 
Regent. — The  Necessary  Seats  for  the  Assembly. — I  Go 
in  Search  of  Fontanieu. — My  Interview  with  Him. — I  Re- 
turn to  the  Palace. — Preparations. — Proposals  of  M.  le 
Due  to  Degrade  M.  du  Maine. — My  Opposition. — My  Joy 
and  Delight. — The  Bed  of  Justice  Finally  Determined 
On. — A  Charming  Messenger. — Final  Preparations. — Ill- 
ness of  the  Regent. — News  Given  to  M.  du  Maine. — Reso- 
lution of  the  Parliament. — Military  Arrangements. — I  Am 
Summoned  to  the  Council. — My  Message  to  the  Comte  de 
Toulouse 1057 

CHAPTER  XCII 

The  Material  Preparations  for  the  Bed  of  Justice. — Arrival 
of  the  Due  d'Orleans. — The  Council  Chamber. — Attitude 
of  the  Various  Actors. — The  Due  du  Maine. — Various 
Movements. — Arrival  of  the  Due  de  Toulouse. — Anxiety 
of  the  Two  Bastards. — They  Leave  the  Room. — Subse- 
quent Proceedings.  —  Arrangement  of  the  Council 
Chamber. — Speech  of  the  Regent. — Countenances  of  the 
Members  of  Council. — The  Regent  Explains  the  Object 
of  the  Bed  of  Justice. — Speech  of  the  Keeper  of  the 
Seals. — Taking  the  Votes. — Incidents  That  Followed. — 
New  Speech  of  the  Due  d'Orleans. — Against  the  Bas- 
tards.— My  Joy. — I  Express  My  Opinion  Modestly. — 
Exception  in  Favour  of  the  Comte  de  Toulouse. — New 
Proposal  of  M.  le  Due. — Its  Effect. — Threatened  Dis- 
obedience of  the  Parliament. — Proper  Measures. — The 
Parliament  Sets  Out 1070 

CHAPTER  XCIII 

Continuation  of  the  Scene  in  the  Council  Chamber. — Slow- 
ness of  the  Parliament. — They  Arrive  at  Last. — The  King 


22  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Fetched. — Commencement  of  the  Bed  of  Justice. — My 
Arrival. — Its  Effect.— What  I  Observed.— Absence  of  the 
Bastards  Noticed. — Appearance  of  the  King. — The 
Keeper  of  the  Seals. — The  Proceedings  Opened. — Hu- 
miliation of  the  Parliament. — Speech  of  the  Chief-Presi- 
dent.— New  Announcement. — Fall  of  the  Due  du  Maine 
Announced. — Rage  of  the  Chief-President. — My  Extreme 
Joy.— M.  le  Due  Substituted  for  M.  du  Maine. — Indif- 
ference of  the  King. — Registration  of  the  Decrees  .       .  1092 

CHAPTER  XCIV 

My  Return  Home. — Wanted  for  a  New  Commission. — Go 
to  the  Palais  Royal. — A  Cunning  Page. — My  Journey  to 
Saint-Cloud. — My  Reception. — Interview  with  the  Du- 
chesse  d'Orleans. — Her  Grief. — My  Embarrassment. — In- 
terview with  Madame. — Her  Triumph. — Letter  of  the 
Duchesse  d'Orleans. — She  Comes  to  Paris. — Quarrels 
with  the   Regent  1107 

CHAPTER  XCV 

Intrigues  of  M.  du  Maine. — And  of  Cellamare,  the  Spanish 
Ambassador. — Monteleon  and  Portocarrero. — Their  De- 
spatches.— How  Signed. — The  Conspiracy  Revealed. — 
Conduct  of  the  Regent. — Arrest  of  Cellamare. — His 
House  Searched. — The  Regency  Council. — Speech  of 
the  Due  d'Orleans. — Resolutions  Come  To. — Arrests. — 
Relations  with  Spain. — Alberoni  and  Saint-Aignan. — 
Their  Quarrel. — Escape   of   Saint-Aignan    .       .       .       .1115 


CHAPTER  XCVI 

The  Regent  Sends  for  Me. — Guilt  of  the  Due  de  Maine. — 
Proposed  Arrest. — Discussion  on  the  Prison  to  Be  Chosen. 
— The  Arrest. — His  Dejection. — Arrest  of  the  Duchess. 
— Her  Rage. — Taken  to  Dijon. — Other  Arrests. — Conduct 
of  the  Comte  de  Toulouse. — The  Faux  Saunters. — Im- 
prisonment of  the  Due  and  Duchesse  du  Maine. — Their 
Sham  Disagreement. — Their  Liberation. — Their  Recon- 
ciliation       1124 

CHAPTER  XCVII 

Anecdote  of  Madame  de  Charlus. — The  Phillip piques. — La 
Grange. — Pere  Tellier. — The  Jesuits. — Anecdote. — Tellier's 


CONTENTS  23 

PAGE 

Banishment. — Death  of  Madame  de  Maintenon. — Her  Life 
at   Saint-Cyr 1134 

CHAPTER  XCVIII 

Mode  of  Life  of  the  Duchesse  de  Berry. — Her  Illness. — 
Her  Degrading  Amours. — Her  Danger  Increases. — The 
Sacraments  Refused. — The  Cure  Is  Supported  by  the 
Cardinal  de  Noailles. — Curious  Scene. — The  Duchess  Re- 
fuses to  Give  Way. — She  Recovers,  and  Is  Delivered. — 
Ambition  of  Rion. — He  Marries  the  Duchess. — She  De- 
termines to  Go  to  Meudon. — Rion  Sent  to  the  Army. — 
Quarrels  of  Father  and  Daughter. — Supper  on  the  Terrace 
of  Meudon. — The  Duchess  Again  111. — Moves  to  La 
Muette. — Great  Danger. — Receives  the  Sacrament. — Garus 
and  Chirac. — Rival  Doctors. — Increased  Illness. — Death 
of  the  Duchess. — Sentiments  on  the  Occasion. — Funeral 
Ceremonies. — Madame  de  Saint-Simon  Falls  111. — Her  Re- 
covery.— We  Move  to  Meudon. — Character  of  the  Du- 
chesse de  Berry 1142 

CHAPTER  XCIX 

The  Mississippi  Scheme. — Law  Offers  Me  Shares. — Com- 
pensation for  Blaye. — The  Rue  Quincampoix. — Excite- 
ment of  the  Public. — Increased  Popularity  of  the  Scheme. 
— Conniving  of  Law. — Plot  against  His  Life. — Disagree- 
ment with  Argenson. — Their  Quarrel. — Avarice  of  the 
Prince  de  Conti. — His  Audacity. — Anger  of  the  Regent. 
— Comparison  with  the  Period  of  Louis  XIV. — A  Bal- 
let Proposed. — The  Marechal  de  Villeroy. — The  Young 
King  Is  to  Dance. — Young  Law  Proposed. — Excitement. 
— The  Young  King's  Disgust. — Extravagant  Presents  of 
the    Due    d'Orleans 1159 

CHAPTER  C 

System  of  Law  in  Danger. — Prodigality  of  the  Due  d'Or- 
leans.— Admissions  of  Law. — Fall  of  His  Notes. — Violent 
Measures  Taken  to  Support  Them. — Their  Failure. — In- 
creased Extravagance  of  the  Regent. — Reduction  of  the 
Fervour. — Proposed  Colonies. — Forced  Emigration. — De- 
cree on  the  Indian  Company. — Scheming  of  Argenson. — 
Attitude  of  the  Parliament. — Their  Remonstrance. — Dis- 
missal of  Law. — His  Coolness. — Extraordinary  Decree  of 
the  Council  of  State. — Prohibition  of  Jewellery. — New 
Schemes    .  1170 


24  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  CI 

PAGE 

The  New  Edict. — The  Commercial  Company. — New  Edict. 
— Rush  on  the  Bank. — People  Stifled  in  the  Crowd. — 
Excitement  against  Law. — Money  of  the  Bank. — Exile 
of  the  Parliament  to  Pontoise. — New  Operation. — The 
Place  Vendome. — The  Marechal  de  Villeroy. — Marseilles. 
— Flight  of  Law. — Character  of  Him  and  His  Wife. — 
Observations  on  His  Schemes. — Decrees  of  the  Finance     1180 

CHAPTER  CII 

Council  on  the  Finances. — Departure  of  Law. — A  Strange 
Dialogue. — M.  le  Due  and  the  Regent. — Crimes  Imputed 
to  Law  during  His  Absence. — Schemes  Proposed. — End 
of   the   Council 1190 

CHAPTER  CHI 

Character  of  Alberoni  —  His  Grand  Projects.— Plots  against 
Him. — The  Queen's  Nurse. — The  Scheme  against  the 
Cardinal.— His  Fall.— Theft  of  a  Will— Reception  in 
Italy. — His  Adventures   There 1196 

CHAPTER  CIV 

Meetings  of  the  Council.— A  Kitten.— The  Archbishopric  of 
Cambrai.— Scandalous  Conduct  of  Dubois. — The  Con- 
secration.—I  Persuade  the  Regent  Not  to  Go.— He 
Promises  Not.— Breaks  His  Word. — Madame  de  Para- 
bere—  The  Ceremony.— Story  of  the  Comte  de  Horn    .   1204 

CHAPTER  CV 

Quarrel  of  the  King  of  England  with  His  Son. — Schemes 
of  Dubois.— Marriage  of  Brissac. — His  Death. — Birth  of 
the  Young  Pretender. — Cardinalate  of  Dubois. — Illness 
of  the  King. — His  Convalescence. — A  Wonderful  Lesson. 
—Prudence  of  the  Regent. — Insinuations  against  Him .   1217 

CHAPTER  CVI 

Projected  Marriages  of  the  King  and  of  the  Daughter  of 
the  Due  d'Orleans—  How  It  Was  Communicated  to  Me. 
—I  Ask  for  the  Embassy  to  Spain. — It  Is  Granted  to 
Me.— Jealousy  of  Dubois.— His  Petty  Interference.— An- 
nouncement of  the  Marriages 1227 


CONTENTS  25 

CHAPTER  CVII 

PAGE 

Interview  with  Dubois. — His  Singular  Instructions  to  Me. 
— His  Insidious  Object. — Various  Tricks  and  Manoeuvres. 
— My  Departure  for  Spain. — Journey  by  Way  of  Bor- 
deaux and  Bayonne. — Reception  in  Spain. — Arrival  at 
Madrid 1235 

CHAPTER  CVIII 

Interview  in  the  Hall  of  Mirrors. — Preliminaries  of  the 
Marriages. — Grimaldo. — How  the  Question  of  Prece- 
dence Was  Settled. — I  Ask  for  an  Audience. — Splendid 
Illuminations. — A  Ball. — I  Am  Forced  to  Dance     .       .   1246 

CHAPTER  CIX 

Mademoiselle  de  Montpensier  Sets  out  for  Spain. — I  Carry 
the  News  to  the  King. — Set  out  for  Lerma. — Stay  at  the 
Escurial. — Take    the    Small-pox. — Convalescence      .       .   1256 

CHAPTER  CX 

Mode  of  Life  of  Their  Catholic  Majesties. — Their  Night. — 
Morning. — Toilette. — Character  of  Philippe  V. — And  of 
His  Queen. — How  She  Governed  Him         ....   1265 

CHAPTER  CXI 

The  King's  Taste  for  Hunting. — Preparations  for  a  Battue. 
— Dull  Work. — My  Plans  to  Obtain  the  Grandesse. — 
Treachery  of  Dubois. — Friendship  of  Grimaldo. — My 
Success 1276 

CHAPTER  CXII 

Marriage  of  the  Prince  of  the  Asturias. — An  Ignorant 
Cardinal. — I  Am  Made  Grandee  of  Spain. — The  Vidame 
de  Chartres  Named  Chevalier  of  the  Golden  Fleece. — 
His  Reception. — My  Adieux. — A  Belching  Princess. — 
Return  to  France 1285 

CHAPTER  CXIII 
Attempted   Reconciliation   between   Dubois   and   Villeroy. — 


26  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Violent  Scene.— Trap  Laid   for  the  Marechal. — Its   Suc- 
cess.— His   Arrest 1301 

CHAPTER  CXIV 

I  Am  Sent  for  by  Cardinal  Dubois. — Flight  of  Frejus. — 
He  Is  Sought  and  Found. — Behaviour  of  Villeroy  in  His 
Exile  at  Lyons. — His  Rage  and  Reproaches  against  Frejus. 
— Rise  of  the  Latter  in  the  King's  Confidence     .       .       .   1316 

CHAPTER  CXV 

I  Retire  from  Public  Life. — Illness  and  Death  of  Dubois. 
— Account  of  His  Riches. — His  Wife. — His  Character. — 
Anecdotes. — Madame  de  Conflans. — Relief  of  the  Regent 
and  the  King 1325 

CHAPTER  CXVI 

Death  of  Lauzun. — His  Extraordinary  Adventures. — His 
Success  at  Court. — Appointment  to  the  Artillery. — 
Counter-worked  by  Louvois. — Lauzun  and  Madame  de 
Montespan. — Scene  with  the  King. — Mademoiselle  and 
Madame  de  Monaco 1344 

CHAPTER  CXVII 

Lauzun's  Magnificence. — Louvois  Conspires  against  Him. — 
He  Is  Imprisoned. — His  Adventures  at  Pignerol. — On 
What  Terms  He  Is  Released. — His  Life  Afterwards. — 
Return  to  Court 1353 

CHAPTER  CXVIII 

Lauzun  Regrets  His  Former  Favour. — Means  Taken  to 
Recover  It. — Failure. — Anecdotes. — Biting  Sayings. — My 
Intimacy  with  Lauzun. — His  Illness,  Death,  and  Char- 
acter     1362 

CHAPTER  CXIX 

Ill-Health  of  the  Regent. — My  Fears. — He  Desires  a  Sud- 
den Death. — Apoplectic  Fit. — Death. — His  Successor  as 
Prime  Minister. — The  Due  de  Chartres. — End  of  tne 
Memoirs 1376 


INTRODUCTION 

No  library  of  Court  documents  could  pretend  to  be 
representative  which  ignored  the  famous  "Memoirs'* 
of  the  Due  de  Saint-Simon.  They  stand,  by  universal 
consent,  at  the  head  of  French  historical  papers,  and 
are  the  one  great  source  from  which  all  historians 
derive  their  insight  into  the  closing  years  of  the  reign 
of  the  "Grand  Monarch,"  Louis  XIV. — whom  the 
author  shows  to  be  anything  but  grand — and  of  the 
Regency.  The  opinion  of  the  French  critic,  Sainte- 
Beuve,  is  fairly  typical :  "With  the  Memoirs  of  De 
Retz,  it  seemed  that  perfection  had  been  attained,  in 
interest,  in  movement,  in  moral  analysis,  in  pictorial 
vivacity,  and  that  there  was  no  reason  for  expecting 
they  could  be  surpassed.  But  the  'Memoirs'  of  Saint- 
Simon  came;  and  they  offer  merits  .  .  .  which  make 
them  the  most  precious  body  of  Memoirs  that  as  yet 
exist." 

Villemain  declared  their  author  to  be  "the  most  orig- 
inal of  geniuses  in  French  literature,  the  foremost  of 
prose  satirists ;  inexhaustible  in  details  of  manners  and 
customs,  a  word-painter  like  Tacitus ;  the  author  of  a 
language  of  his  own,  lacking  in  accuracy,  system,  and 
art,  yet  an  admirable  writer."  Leon  Vallee  reinforces 
this  by  saying:  "Saint-Simon  can  not  be  compared  to 
any  of  his  contemporaries.  He  has  an  individuality, 
a  style,  and  a  language  solely  his  own.  .  .  .  Language 
he  treated  like  an  abject  slave.  When  he  had  gone  to 
its  farthest  limit,  when  it  failed  to  express  his  ideas  or 
feelings,  he  forced  it — the  result  was  a  new  term,  or 

27 


28  INTRODUCTION 

a  change  in  the  ordinary  meaning  of  words  sprang 
forth  from  his  pen.  With  this  was  joined  a  vigour 
and  breadth  of  style,  very  pronounced,  which  makes 
up  the  originality  of  the  works  of  Saint-Simon  and 
contributes  toward  placing  their  author  in  the  foremost 
rank  of  French  writers." 

Louis  de  Rouvroy,  who  later  became  the  Due  de 
Saint-Simon,  was  born  in  Paris,  January  16,  1675. 
He  claimed  descent  from  Charlemagne,  but  the  story 
goes  that  his  father,  as  a  young  page  of  Louis  XIII., 
gained  favour  with  his  royal  master  by  his  skill  in  hold- 
ing the  stirrup,  and  was  finally  made  a  duke  and  peer 
of  France.  The  boy  Louis  had  no  lesser  persons  than 
the  King  and  Queen  Marie  Therese  as  godparents,  and 
made  his  first  formal  appearance  at  Court  when  seven- 
teen. He  tells  us  that  he  was  not  a  studious  boy,  but 
was  fond  of  reading  history;  and  that  if  he  had  been 
given  rein  to  read  all  he  desired  of  it,  he  might  have 
made  "some  figure  in  the  world."  At  nineteen,  like 
D'Artagnan,  he  entered  the  King's  Musketeers.  At 
twenty  he  was  made  a  captain  in  the  cavalry;  and  the 
same  year  he  married  the  beautiful  daughter  of  the 
Marechal  de  Lorges.  This  marriage,  which  was  purely 
political  in  its  inception,  finally  turned  into  a  genuine 
love  match — a  pleasant  exception  to  the  majority  of 
such  affairs.  He  became  devoted  to  his  wife,  saying: 
"She  exceeded  all  that  was  promised  of  her,  and  all 
that  I  myself  had  hoped."  Partly  because  of  this  mar- 
riage, and  also  because  he  felt  himself  slighted  in  cer- 
tain army  appointments,  he  resigned  his  commission, 
after  five  years'  service,  and  retired  for  a  time  to  pri- 
vate life. 

Upon  his  return  to  Court,  taking  up  apartments 
which  the  royal  favour  had  reserved  for  him  at  Ver- 
sailles, Saint-Simon  secretly  entered  upon  the  self- 
appointed  task  for  which  he  is  now  known  to  fame — 


INTRODUCTION  29 

a  task  which  the  proud  King  of  a  vainglorious  Court 
would  have  lost  no  time  in  terminating  had  it  been 
discovered — the  task  of  judge,  spy,  critic,  portraitist, 
and  historian,  rolled  into  one.  Day  by  day,  henceforth 
for  many  years,  he  was  to  set  down  upon  his  private 
"Memoirs"  the  results  of  his  personal  observations, 
supplemented  by  the  gossip  brought  to  him  by  his  un- 
suspecting friends;  for  neither  courtier, statesman, min- 
ister, nor  friend  ever  looked  upon  those  notes  which 
this  "little  Duke  with  his  cruel,  piercing,  unsatisfied 
eyes"  was  so  busily  penning.  Says  Vallee:  "He  filled 
a  unique  position  at  Court,  being  accepted  by  all,  even 
by  the  King  himself,  as  a  cynic,  personally  liked  for 
his  disposition,  enjoying  consideration  on  account  of 
the  prestige  of  his  social  connections,  inspiring  fear  in 
the  more  timid  by  the  severity  and  fearlessness  of  his 
criticism."  Yet  Louis  XIV.  never  seems  to  have  liked 
him,  and  Saint-Simon  owed  his  influence  chiefly  to  his 
friendly  relations  with  the  Dauphin's  family.  During 
the  Regency,  he  tried  to  restrain  the  profligate  Duke  of 
Orleans,  and  in  return  was  offered  the  position  of  gov- 
ernor of  the  boy,  Louis  XV.,  which  he  refused.  Soon 
after,  he  retired  to  private  life,  and  devoted  his  remain- 
ing years  largely  to  revising  his  beloved  "Memoirs." 
The  autograph  manuscript,  still  in  existence,  reveals 
the  immense  labour  which  he  put  into  it.  The  writing 
is  remarkable  for  its  legibility  and  freedom  from  eras- 
ure.    It  comprises  no  less  than  2,300  pages  in  folio. 

After  the  author's  death,  in  1755,  the  secret  of  his 
lifelong  labour  was  revealed;  and  the  Due  de  Choiseul, 
fearing  the  result  of  these  frank  revelations,  confiscated 
them  and  placed  them  among  the  state  archives.  For 
sixty  years  they  remained  under  lock  and  key,  being 
seen  by  only  a  few  privileged  persons,  among  them 
Marmontel,  Duclos,  and  Voltaire.  A  garbled  version 
of  extracts  appeared  in  1789,  possibly  being  used  as  a 


30  INTRODUCTION 

Revolutionary  text.  Finally,  in  1819,  a  descendant  of 
the  analyst,  bearing  the  same  name,  obtained  permis- 
sion from  Louis  XVIII.  to  set  this  "prisoner  of  the 
Bastille"  at  liberty;  and  in  1829  an  authoritative  edi- 
tion, revised  and  arranged  by  chapters,  appeared.  It 
created  a  tremendous  stir.  Saint-Simon  had  been  mer- 
ciless, from  King  down  to  lady's  maid,  in  depicting 
the  daily  life  of  a  famous  Court.  He  had  stripped  it 
of  all  its  tinsel  and  pretension,  and  laid  the  ragged 
framework  bare.  "He  wrote  like  the  Devil  for  pos- 
terity!" exclaimed  Chateaubriand.  But  the  work  at 
once  became  universally  read  and  quoted,  both  in 
France  and  England.  Macaulay  made  frequent  use 
of  it  in  his  historical  essays.  It  was,  in  a  word,  recog- 
nised as  the  chief  authority  upon  an  important  period 
of  thirty  years  (1694-1723). 

Since  then  it  has  passed  through  many  editions, 
finally  receiving  an  adequate  English  translation  at  the 
hands  of  Bayle  St.  John,  who  has  been  careful  to  ad- 
here to  the  peculiarities  of  Saint-Simon's  style.  It  is 
this  version  which  is  now  presented  in  full,  giving  us 
not  only  many  vivid  pictures  of  the  author's  time,  but 
of  the  author  himself.  "I  do  not  pride  myself  upon 
my  freedom  from  prejudice — impartiality,"  he  con- 
fesses— "it  would  be  useless  to  attempt  it.  But  I 
have  tried  at  all  times  to  tell  the  truth." 


THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 
DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON 

CHAPTER  I 

I  WAS  born  on  the  night  of  the  15th  of  January, 
1675,  °f  Claude  Due  de  Saint-Simon,  Peer  of 
France;  and  of  his  second  wife  Charlotte  de 
lAubepine.  I  was  the  only  child  of  that  marriage. 
By  his  first  wife,  Diana  de  Budos,  my  father  had  had 
only  a  daughter.  He  married  her  to  the  Due  de 
Brissac,  Peer  of  France,  only  brother  of  the  Du- 
chesse  de  Villeroy.  She  died  in  1684,  without  chil- 
dren,— having  been  long  before  separated  from  a 
husband  who  was  unworthy  of  her — leaving  me  heir 
of  all  her  property. 

I  bore  the  name  of  the  Vidame  de  Chartres;  and 
was  educated  with  great  care  and  attention.  My 
mother,  who  was  remarkable  for  virtue,  perseverance, 
and  sense,  busied  herself  continually  in  forming  my 
mind  and  body.  She  feared  for  me  the  usual  fate 
of  young  men,  who  believe  their  fortunes  made,  and 
who  find  themselves  their  own  masters  early  in  life. 
It  was  not  likely  that  my  father,  born  in  1606,  would 
live  long  enough  to  ward  off  from  me  this  danger;  and 
my  mother  repeatedly  impressed  on  me  how  neces- 
sary it  was  for  a  young  man,  the  son  of  the  favourite 
of  a  King  long  dead, — with  no  new  friends  at  Court, — 
to  acquire  some  personal  value  of  his  own.  She  suc- 
ceeded in  stimulating  my  courage;  and  in  exciting  in 

31 


g2  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

me  the  desire  to  make  the  acquisitions  she  laid  stress 
on;  but  my  aptitude  for  study  and  the  sciences  did 
not  come  up  to  my  desire  to  succeed  in  them.  How- 
ever, I  had  an  innate  inclination  for  reading,  especially 
works  of  history;  and  thus  was  inspired  with  ambi- 
tion to  emulate  the  examples  presented  to  my  imagi- 
nation,— to  do  something  and  become  somebody,  which 
partly  made  amends  for  my  coldness  for  letters.  In 
fact,  I  have  always  thought  that  if  I  had  been  allowed 
to  read  history  more  constantly,  instead  of  losing  my 
time  in  studies  for  which  I  had  no  aptness,  I  might 
have  made  some  figure  in  the  world. 

What  I  read  of  my  own  accord,  of  history,  and, 
above  all,  of  the  personal  memoirs  of  the  times  since 
Francis  I.,  bred  in  me  the  desire  to  write  down  what 
I  might  myself  see.  The  hope  of  advancement,  and 
of  becoming  familiar  with  the  affairs  of  my  time, 
stirred  me.  The  annoyances  I  might  thus  bring  upon 
myself  did  not  fail  to  present  themselves  to  my  mind; 
but  the  firm  resolution  I  made  to  keep  my  writings 
secret  from  everybody,  appeared  to  me  to  remedy  all 
evils.  I  commenced  my  memoirs  then  in  July,  1694, 
being  at  that  time  colonel  of  a  cavalry  regiment  bearing 
my  name,  in  the  camp  of  Guinsheim,  upon  the  old 
Rhine,  in  the  army  commanded  by  the  Marechal  Due 
de  Lorges. 

In  1 69 1  I  was  studying  my  philosophy  and  begin- 
ning to  learn  to  ride  at  an  academy  at  Rochefort, — 
getting  mightily  tired  of  masters  and  books,  and 
anxious  to  join  the  army.  The  siege  of  Mons,  formed 
by  the  King  in  person,  at  the  commencement  of  the 
spring,  had  drawn  away  all  the  young  men  of  my  age 
to  commence  their  first  campaign;  and,  what  piqued 
me  most,  the  Due  de  Chartres  was  there,  too.  I  had 
been,  as  it  were,  educated  with  him.  I  was  younger 
than  he  by  eight  months;  and  if  the  expression  be 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  33 

allowed  in  speaking  of  young  people,  so  unequal  in 
position,  friendship  had  united  us.  I  made  up  my 
mind,  therefore,  to  escape  from  my  leading-strings; 
but  pass  lightly  over  the  artifices  I  used  in  order  to 
attain  success.  I  addressed  myself  to  my  mother.  I 
soon  saw  that  she  trifled  with  me.  I  had  recourse  to 
my  father,  whom  I  made  believe  that  the  King,  hav- 
ing led  a  great  siege  this  year,  would  rest  the  next. 
I  said  nothing  of  this  to  my  mother,  who  did  not 
discover  my  plot  until  it  was  just  upon  the  point  of 
execution. 

The  King  had  determined  rigidly  to  adhere  to  a 
rule  he  had  laid  down — namely,  that  none  who  entered 
the  service,  except  his  illegitimate  children,  and  the 
Princes  of  the  blood  royal,  should  be  exempt  from 
serving  for  a  year  in  one  of  his  two  companies  of 
musketeers;  and  passing  afterwards  through  the  or- 
deal of  being  private  or  subaltern  in  one  of  the  regi- 
ments of  cavalry  or  infantry, — before  receiving  per- 
mission to  purchase  a  regiment.  My  father  took  me, 
therefore,  to  Versailles,  where  he  had  not  been  for 
many  years,  and  begged  of  the  King  admission  for  me 
into  the  Musketeers.  It  was  on  the  day  of  St.  Simon 
and  St.  Jude,  at  half-past  twelve,  and  just  as  his  Maj- 
esty came  out  of  the  council. 

The  King  did  my  father  the  honour  of  embracing 
him  three  times,  and  then  turned  towards  me.  Find- 
ing that  I  was  little  and  of  delicate  appearance,  he  said 
I  was  still  very  young;  to  which  my  father  replied, 
that  I  should  be  able  in  consequence  to  serve  longer. 
Thereupon  the  King  demanded  in  which  of  the  two 
companies  he  wished  to  put  me;  and  my  father  named 
that  commanded  by  Maupertuis,  who  was  one  of  his 
friends.  The  King  relied  much  upon  the  information 
given  him  by  the  captains  of  the  two  companies  of 
Musketeers,  as  to  the  young  men  who  served  in  them. 


34  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

I  have  reason  for  believing,  that  I  owe  to  Maupertuis 
the  first  good  opinion  that  his  Majesty  had  of  me. 

Three  months  after  entering  the  Musketeers,  that  is 
to  say,  in  the  March  of  the  following  year,  the  King 
held  a  review  of  his  guards,  and  of  the  gendarmerie, 
at  Compiegne,  and  I  mounted  guard  once  at  the  palace. 
During  this  little  journey  there  was  talk  of  a  much 
more  important  one.  My  joy  was  extreme;  but  my 
father,  who  had  not  counted  upon  this,  repented  of 
having  believed  me,  when  I  told  him  that  the  King 
would  no  doubt  rest  at  Paris  this  year.  My  mother, 
after  a  little  vexation  and  pouting  at  finding  me  en- 
rolled by  my  father  against  her  will,  did  not  fail  to 
bring  him  to  reason,  and  to  make  him  provide  me  with 
an  equipment  of  thirty-five  horses  or  mules,  and  means 
to  live  honourably. 

A  grievous  annoyance  happened  in  our  house  about 
three  weeks  before  my  departure.  A  steward  of  my 
father  named  Tesse,  who  had  been  with  him  many 
years,  disappeared  all  at  once  with  fifty  thousand 
francs  due  to  various  tradesfolk.  He  had  written  out 
false  receipts  from  these  people,  and  put  them  in  his 
accounts.  He  was  a  little  man,  gentle,  affable,  and 
clever;  who  had  shown  some  probity,  and  who  had 
many  friends. 

The  King  set  out  on  the  ioth  of  May,  1692,  with 
the  ladies;  and  I  performed  the  journey  on  horseback 
with  the  soldiers  and  all  the  attendants,  like  the  other 
Musketeers,  and  continued  to  do  so  through  the  whole 
campaign.  I  was  accompanied  by  two  gentlemen;  the 
one  had  been  my  tutor,  the  other  was  my  mother's 
squire.  The  King's  army  was  formed  at  the  camp  of 
Gevries;  that  of  M.  de  Luxembourg  almost  joined  it. 
The  ladies  were  at  Mons,  two  leagues  distant.  The 
King  made  them  come  into  his  camp,  where  he  enter- 
tained them;  and  then  showed  them,  perhaps,  the  most 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  35 

superb  review  which  had  ever  been  seen.  The  two 
armies  were  ranged  in  two  lines,  the  right  of  M.  de 
Luxembourg's  touching  the  left  of  the  King's, — the 
whole  extending  over  three  leagues  of  ground. 

After  stopping  ten  days  at  Gevries,  the  two  armies 
separated  and  marched.  Two  days  afterwards  the 
siege  of  Namur  was  declared.  The  King  arrived  there 
in  five  days.  Monsiegneur  (son  of  the  King);  Mon- 
sieur (Due  d'Orleans,  brother  of  the  King);  M.  le 
Prince  (de  Conde)  and  Marechal  d'Humieres;  all 
four,  the  one  under  the  other,  commanded  in  the 
King's  army  under  the  King  himself.  The  Due  de 
Luxembourg,  sole  general  of  his  own  army,  covered 
the  siege  operations,  and  observed  the  enemy.  The 
ladies  went  away  to  Dinant.  On  the  third  day  of  the 
march  M.  le  Prince  went  forward  to  invest  the  place. 

The  celebrated  Vauban,  the  life  and  soul  of  all  the 
sieges  the  King  made,  was  of  opinion  that  the  town 
should  be  attacked  separately  from  the  castle;  and  his 
advice  was  acted  upon.  The  Baron  de  Bresse,  how- 
ever, who  had  fortified  the  place,  was  for  attacking 
town  and  castle  together.  He  was  a  humble  down- 
looking  man,  whose  physiognomy  promised  nothing, 
but  who  soon  acquired  the  confidence  of  the  King,  and 
the  esteem  of  the  army. 

The  Prince  de  Conde,  Marechal  d'Humieres,  and 
the  Marquis  de  BoufHers  each  led  an  attack.  There 
was  nothing  worthy  of  note  during  the  ten  days  the 
siege  lasted.  On  the  eleventh  day,  after  the  trenches 
had  been  opened,  a  parley  was  beaten  and  a  capitula- 
tion made  almost  as  the  besieged  desired  it.  They 
withdrew  to  the  castle;  and  it  was  agreed  that  it 
should  not  be  attacked  from  the  town-side,  and  that 
the  town  was  not  to  be  battered  by  it.  During  the 
siege  the  King  was  almost  always  in  his  tent;  and  the 
weather  remained  constantly  warm  and  serene.     We 

Vol.  11  Memoirs— B 


36  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

lost  scarcely  anybody  of  consequence.  The  Comte  de 
Toulouse  received  a  slight  wound  in  the  arm  while 
quite  close  to  the  King,  who  from  a  prominent  place 
was  witnessing  the  attack  of  a  half-moon,  which  was 
carried  in  broad  daylight  by  a  detachment  of  the  old- 
est of  the  two  companies  of  Musketeers. 

The  siege  of  the  castle  next  commenced.  The  posi- 
tion of  the  camp  was  changed.  The  King's  tents  and 
those  of  all  the  Court  were  pitched  in  a  beautiful 
meadow  about  five  hundred  paces  from  the  monastery 
of  Marlaigne.  The  fine  weather  changed  to  rain, 
which  fell  with  an  abundance  and  perseverance  never 
before  known  by  any  one  in  the  army.  This  circum- 
stance increased  the  reputation  of  Saint  Medard, 
whose  fete  falls  on  the  8th  of  June.  It  rained  in  tor- 
rents that  day,  and  it  is  said  that  when  such  is  the 
case  it  will  rain  for  forty  days  afterwards.  By  chance 
it  happened  so  this  year.  The  soldiers  in  despair  at 
this  deluge  uttered  many  imprecations  against  the 
Saint;  and  looked  for  images  of  him,  burning  and 
breaking  as  many  as  they  could  find.  The  rains  sadly 
interfered  with  the  progress  of  the  siege.  The  tents 
of  the  King  could  only  be  communicated  with  by  paths 
laid  with  fascines  which  required  to  be  renewed  every 
day,  as  they  sank  down  into  the  soil.  The  camps  and 
quarters  were  no  longer  accessible;  the  trenches  were 
full  of  mud  and  water,  and  it  took  often  three  days 
to  remove  cannon  from  one  battery  to  another.  The 
waggons  became  useless,  too,  so  that  the  transport  of 
bombs,  shot,  and  so  forth,  could  not  be  performed  ex- 
cept upon  the  backs  of  mules  and  of  horses  taken 
from  the  equipages  of  the  Court  and  the  army.  The 
state  of  the  roads  deprived  the  Due  de  Luxembourg 
of  the  use  of  waggons  and  other  vehicles.  His  army 
was  perishing  for  want  of  grain.  To  remedy  this  in- 
convenience the  King  ordered  all  his  household  troops 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  37 

to  mount  every  day  on  horseback  by  detachments,  and 
to  take  sacks  of  grain  upon  their  cruppers  to  a  village 
where  they  were  to  be  received  and  counted  by  the 
officers  of  the  Due  de  Luxembourg.  Although  the 
household  of  the  King  had  scarcely  any  repose  dur- 
ing this  siege,  what  with  carrying  fascines,  furnishing 
guards,  and  other  daily  services,  this  increase  of  duty 
was  given  to  it  because  the  cavalry  served  continually 
also,  and  was  reduced  almost  entirely  to  leaves  of  trees 
for  provender. 

The  household  of  the  King,  accustomed  to  all  sorts 
of  distinctions,  complained  bitterly  of  this  task.  But 
the  King  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  them,  and  would  be 
obeyed.  On  the  first  day  some  of  the  Gendarmes  and 
of  the  light  horse  of  the  guard  arrived  early  in  the 
morning  at  the  depot  of  the  sacks,  and  commenced 
murmuring  and  exciting  each  other  by  their  dis- 
courses. They  threw  down  the  sacks  at  last  and  flatly 
refused  to  carry  them.  I  had  been  asked  very  politely 
if  I  would  be  of  the  detachment  for  the  sacks  or  of 
some  other.  I  decided  for  the  sacks,  because  I  felt 
that  I  might  thereby  advance  myself,  the  subject  hav- 
ing already  made  much  noise.  I  arrived  with  the  de- 
tachment of  the  Musketeers  at  the  moment  of  the 
refusal  of  the  others;  and  I  loaded  my  sack  before 
their  eyes.  Marin,  a  brigadier  of  cavalry  and  lieu- 
tenant of  the  body  guards,  who  was  there  to  superin- 
tend the  operation,  noticed  me,  and  full  of  anger  at 
the  refusal  he  had  just  met  with,  exclaimed  that  as 
I  did  not  think  such  work  beneath  me,  the  rest  would 
do  well  to  imitate  my  example.  Without  a  word  be- 
ing spoken  each  took  up  his  sack;  and  from  that  time 
forward  no  further  difficulty  occurred  in  the  matter. 
As  soon,  as  the  detachment  had  gone,  Marin  went 
straight  to  the  King  and  told  him  what  had  occurred. 
This  was  a  service  which  procured   for  me   several 


38  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

obliging  discourses  from  his  Majesty,  who  during  the 
rest  of  the  siege  always  sought  to  say  something  agree- 
able every  time  he  met  me. 

The  twenty-seventh  day  after  opening  the  trenches, 
that  is,  the  first  of  July,  1692,  a  parley  was  sounded  by 
the  Prince  de  Barbanqon,  governor  of  the  place, — a 
fortunate  circumstance  for  the  besiegers,  who  were 
worn  out  with  fatigue,  and  destitute  of  means,  on  ac- 
count of  the  wretched  weather  which  still  continued, 
and  which  had  turned  the  whole  country  round  into  a 
quagmire.  Even  the  horses  of  the  King  lived  upon 
leaves,  and  not  a  horse  of  all  our  numerous  cavalry 
ever  thoroughly  recovered  from  the  effects  of  such 
sorry  fare.  It  is  certain  that  without  the  presence  of 
the  King  the  siege  might  never  have  been  successful; 
but  he  being  there,  everybody  was  stimulated.  Yet 
had  the  place  held  out  ten  days  longer,  there  is  no 
saying  what  might  have  happened.  Before  the  end 
of  the  siege  the  King  was  so  much  fatigued  with  his 
exertions,  that  a  new  attack  of  gout  came  on,  with 
more  pain  than  ever,  and  compelled  him  to  keep  his 
bed,  where,  however,  he  thought  of  everything,  and 
laid  out  his  plans  as  though  he  had  been  at  Versailles. 

During  the  entire  siege,  the  Prince  of  Orange 
(William  III.  of  England)  had  unavailingly  used  all 
his  science  to  dislodge  the  Due  de  Luxembourg;  but 
he  had  to  do  with  a  man  who  in  matters  of  war  was 
his  superior,  and  who  continued  so  all  his  life.  Namur, 
which,  by  the  surrender  of  the  castle,  was  now  entirely 
in  our  power,  was  one  of  the  strongest  places  in  the 
Low  Countries,  and  had  hitherto  boasted  of  having 
never  changed  masters.  The  inhabitants  could  not  re- 
strain their  tears  of  sorrow.  Even  the  monks  of  Mar- 
laigne  were  profoundly  moved,  so  much  so,  that  they 
could  not  disguise  their  grief.  The  King,  feeling  for 
the  loss  of  their  corn  that  they  had  sent  for  safety  into 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  39 

Namur,  gave  them  double  the  quantity,  and  abundant 
alms.  He  incommoded  them  as  little  as  possible,  and 
would  not  permit  the  passage  of  cannon  across  their 
park,  until  it  was  found  impossible  to  transport  it  by 
any  other  road.  Notwithstanding  these  acts  of  good- 
ness, they  could  scarcely  look  upon  a  Frenchman  after 
the  taking  of  the  place;  and  one  actually  refused  to 
give  a  bottle  of  beer  to  an  usher  of  the  King's  ante- 
chamber, although  offered  a  bottle  of  champagne  in 
exchange  for  it ! 

A  circumstance  happened  just  after  the  taking  of 
Namur,  which  might  have  led  to  the  saddest  results, 
under  any  other  prince  than  the  King.  Before  he  en- 
tered the  town,  a  strict  examination  of  every  place  was 
made,  although  by  the  capitulation  all  the  mines,  mag- 
azines, &c,  had  to  be  shown.  At  a  visit  paid  to  the 
Jesuits,  they  pretended  to  show  everything,  express- 
ing, however,  surprise  and  something  more,  that  their 
bare  word  was  not  enough.  But  on  examining  here 
and  there,  where  they  did  not  expect  search  would  be 
made,  their  cellars  were  found  to  be  stored  with  gun- 
powder, of  which  they  had  taken  good  care  to  say 
no  word.  What  they  meant  to  do  with  it  is  uncer- 
tain. It  was  carried  away,  and  as  they  were  Jesuits 
nothing  was  done. 

During  the  course  of  this  siege,  the  King  suffered  a 
cruel  disappointment.  James  II.  of  England,  then  a 
refugee  in  France,  had  advised  the  King  to  give  bat- 
tle to  the  English  fleet.  Joined  to  that  of  Holland  it 
was  very  superior  to  the  sea  forces  of  France.  Tour- 
ville,  our  admiral,  so  famous  for  his  valour  and  skill, 
pointed  this  circumstance  out  to  the  King.  But  it 
was  all  to  no  effect.  He  was  ordered  to  attack  the 
enemy.  He  did  so.  Many  of  his  ships  were  burnt, 
and  the  victory  was  won  by  the  English.  A  courier 
entrusted   with  this   sad  intelligence   was  despatched 


40  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

to  the  King-.  On  his  way  he  was  joined  by  another 
courier,  who  pressed  him  for  his  news.  The  first 
courier  knew  that  if  he  gave  up  his  news,  the  other, 
who  was  better  mounted,  would  outstrip  him,  and  be 
the  first  to  carry  it  to  the  King.  He  told  his  com- 
panion, therefore,  an  idle  tale,  very  different  indeed 
from  the  truth,  for  he  changed  the  defeat  into  a  great 
victory.  Having  gained  this  wonderful  intelligence, 
the  second  courier  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  hurried 
away  to  the  King's  camp,  eager  to  be  the  bearer  of 
good  tidings.  He  reached  the  camp  first,  and  was 
received  with  delight.  While  his  Majesty  was  still 
in  great  joy  at  his  happy  victory,  the  other  courier  ar- 
rived with  the  real  details.  The  Court  appeared  pros- 
trated. The  King  was  much  afflicted.  Nevertheless 
he  found  means  to  appear  to  retain  his  self-possession, 
and  I  saw,  for  the  first  time,  that  Courts  are  not  long 
in  affliction  or  occupied  with  sadness.  I  must  mention 
that  the  (exiled)  King  of  England  looked  on  at  this 
naval  battle  from  the  shore;  and  was  accused  of  allow- 
ing expressions  of  partiality  to  escape  him  in  favour  of 
his  countrymen,  although  none  had  kept  their  promises 
to  him. 

Two  days  after  the  defeated  garrison  had  marched 
out,  the  King  went  to  Dinant,  to  join  the  ladies,  with 
whom  he  returned  to  Versailles.  I  had  hoped  that 
Monseigneur  would  finish  the  campaign,  and  that  I 
should  be  with  him,  and  it  was  not  without  regret  that 
I  returned  towards  Paris.  On  the  way  a  little  circum- 
stance happened.  One  of  our  halting-places  was 
Marienburgh,  where  we  camped  for  the  night.  I  had 
become  united  in  friendship  with  Comte  de  Coetquen, 
who  was  in  the  same  company  with  myself.  He  was 
well  instructed  and  full  of  wit;  was  exceedingly  rich, 
and  even  more  idle  than  rich.  That  evening  he  had 
invited  several  of  us  to  supper  in  his  tent.    I  went  there 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  41 

early,  and  found  him  stretched  out  upon  his  bed,  from 
which  I  dislodged  him  playfully  and  laid  myself  down 
in  his  place,  several  of  our  officers  standing  by.  Coet- 
quen,  sporting  with  me  in  return,  took  his  gun,  which 
he  thought  to  be  unloaded,  and  pointed  it  at  me.  But 
to  our  great  surprise  the  weapon  went  off.  Fortu- 
nately for  me,  I  was  at  that  moment  lying  flat  upon  the 
bed.  Three  balls  passed  just  above  my  head,  and  then 
just  above  the  heads  of  our  two  tutors,  who  were 
walking  outside  the  tent.  Coetquen  fainted  at  thought 
of  the  mischief  he  might  have  done,  and  we  had  all 
the  pains  in  the  world  to  bring  him  to  himself  again; 
indeed,  he  did  not  thoroughly  recover  for  several  days. 
I  relate  this  as  a  lesson  which  ought  to  teach  us  never 
to  play  with  fire-arms. 

The  poor  lad, — to  finish  at  once  all  that  concerns 
him, — did  not  long  survive  this  incident.  He  entered 
the  King's  regiment,  and  when  just  upon  the  point  of 
joining  it  in  the  following  spring,  came  to  me  and  said 
he  had  had  his  fortune  told  by  a  woman  named  Du 
Perchoir,  who  practised  her  trade  secretly  at  Paris, 
and  that  she  had  predicted  he  would  be  soon  drowned. 
I  rated  him  soundly  for  indulging  a  curiosity  so  dan- 
gerous and  so  foolish.  A  few  days  after  he  set  out  for 
Amiens.  He  found  another  fortune-teller  there,  a 
man,  who  made  the  same  prediction.  In  marching 
afterwards  with  the  regiment  of  the  King  to  join  the 
army,  he  wished  to  water  his  horse  in  the  Escant,  and 
was  drowned  there,  in  the  presence  of  the  whole  regi- 
ment, without  it  being  possible  to  give  him  any  aid. 
I  felt  extreme  regret  for  his  loss,  which  for  his  friends 
and  his  family  was  irreparable. 

But  I  must  go  back  a  little,  and  speak  of  two  mar- 
riages that  took  place  at  the  commencement  of  this 
year,  the  first  (most  extraordinary)  on  the  18th  Feb- 
ruary, the  other  a  month  after. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  King  was  very  anxious  to  establish  his  ille- 
gitimate children,  whom  he  advanced  day  by 
day;  and  had  married  two  of  them,  daughters, 
to  Princes  of  the  blood.  One  of  these,  the  Princesse 
de  Conti,  only  daughter  of  the  King  and  Madame  de 
la  Valliere,  was  a  widow  without  children;  the  other, 
eldest  daughter  of  the  King  and  Madame  de  Montes- 
pan,  had  married  Monsieur  le  Due  (Louis  de  Bour- 
bon, eldest  son  of  the  Prince  de  Conde).  For  some 
time  past  Madame  de  Maintenon,  even  more  than  the 
King,  had  thought  of  nothing  else  than  how  to  raise 
the  remaining  illegitimate  children,  and  wished  to 
marry  Mademoiselle  de  Blois  (second  daughter  of  the 
King  and  of  Madame  de  Montespan)  to  Monsieur  the 
Due  de  Chartres.  The  Due  de  Chartres  was  the  sole 
nephew  of  the  King,  and  was  much  above  the  Princes 
of  the  blood  by  his  rank  of  Grandson  of  France,  and 
by  the  Court  that  Monsieur  his  father  kept  up. 

The  marriages  of  the  two  Princes  of  the  blood,  of 
which  I  have  just  spoken,  had  scandalised  all  the 
world.  The  King  was  not  ignorant  of  this;  and  he 
could  thus  judge  of  the  effect  of  a  marriage  even  more 
startling;  such  as  was  this  proposed  one.  But  for  four 
years  he  had  turned  it  over  in  his  mind  and  had  even 
taken  the  first  steps  to  bring  it  about.  It  was  the  more 
difficult  because  the  father  of  the  Due  de  Chartres  was 
infinitely  proud  of  his  rank,  and  the  mother  belonged 
to  a  nation  which  abhorred  illegitimacy  and  misalli- 
ances, and  was  indeed  of  a  character  to  forbid  all  hope 
of  her  ever  relishing  this  marriage. 

42 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  43 

In  order  to  vanquish  all  these  obstacles,  the  King 
applied  to  M.  le  Grand  (Louis  de  Lorraine).  This 
person  was  brother  of  the  Chevalier  de  Lorraine,  the 
favourite,  by  disgraceful  means,  of  Monsieur,  father 
of  the  Due  de  Chartres.  The  two  brothers,  unscrupu- 
lous and  corrupt,  entered  willingly  into  the  scheme,  but 
demanded  as  a  reward,  paid  in  advance,  to  be  made 
"  Chevaliers  of  the  Order."  This  was  done,  although 
somewhat  against  the  inclination  of  the  King,  and 
success  was  promised. 

The  young  Due  de  Chartres  had  at  that  time  for 
teacher  Dubois  (afterwards  the  famous  Cardinal  Du- 
bois), whose  history  was  singular.  He  had  formerly 
been  a  valet;  but  displaying  unusual  aptitude  for  learn- 
ing, had  been  instructed  by  his  master  in  literature  and 
history,  and  in  due  time  passed  into  the  service  of 
Saint  Laurent,  who  was  the  Due  de  Chartres'  first  in- 
structor. He  became  so  useful  and  showed  so  much 
skill,  that  Saint  Laurent  made  him  become  an  abbe. 
Thus  raised  in  position,  he  passed  much  time  with  the 
Due  de  Chartres,  assisting  him  to  prepare  his  lessons, 
to  write  his  exercises,  and  to  look  out  words  in  the 
dictionary.  I  have  seen  him  thus  engaged  over  and 
over  again,  when  I  used  to  go  and  play  with  the  Due 
de  Chartres.  As  Saint  Laurent  grew  infirm,  Dubois 
little  by  little  supplied  his  place;  supplied  it  well  too, 
and  yet  pleased  the  young  Duke.  When  Saint  Lau- 
rent died  Dubois  aspired  to  succeed  him.  He  had  paid 
his  court  to  the  Chevalier  de  Lorraine,  by  whose  in- 
fluence he  was  much  aided  in  obtaining  his  wish. 
When  at  last  appointed  successor  to  Saint  Laurent,  I 
never  saw  a  man  so  glad,  nor  with  more  reason.  The 
extreme  obligation  he  was  under  to  the  Chevalier  de 
Lorraine,  and  still  more  the  difficulty  of  maintaining 
himself  in  his  new  position,  attached  him  more  and 
more  to  his  protector. 


44  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

It  was,  then,  Dubois  that  the  Chevalier  de  Lorraine 
made  use  of  to  gain  the  consent  of  the  young  Due  de 
Chartres  to  the  marriage  proposed  by  the  King.  Du- 
bois had,  in  fact,  gained  the  Duke's  confidence,  which 
it  was  easy  to  do  at  that  age;  had  made  him  afraid 
of  his  father  and  of  the  King;  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
had  filled  him  with  fine  hopes  and  expectations.  All 
that  Dubois  could  do,  however,  when  he  broke  the 
matter  of  the  marriage  to  the  young  Duke,  was  to 
ward  off  a  direct  refusal;  but  that  was  sufficient  for 
the  success  of  the  enterprise.  Monsieur  was  already 
gained,  and  as  soon  as  the  King  had  a  reply  from  Du- 
bois he  hastened  to  broach  the  affair.  A  day  or  two 
before  this,  however,  Madame  (mother  of  the  Due  de 
Chartres)  had  scent  of  what  was  going  on.  She  spoke 
to  her  son  of  the  indignity  of  this  marriage  with  that 
force  in  which  she  was  never  wanting,  and  drew  from 
him  a  promise  that  he  would  not  consent  to  it.  Thus, 
he  was  feeble  towards  his  teacher,  feeble  towards  his 
mother,  and  there  was  aversion  on  the  one  hand  and 
fear  on  the  other,  and  great  embarrassment  on  all 
sides. 

One  day  early  after  dinner  I  saw  M.  de  Chartres, 
with  a  very  sad  air,  come  out  of  his  apartment  and 
enter  the  closet  of  the  King.  He  found  his  Majesty 
alone  with  Monsieur.  The  King  spoke  very  obligingly 
to  the  Due  de  Chartres,  said  that  he  wished  to  see  him 
married;  that  he  offered  him  his  daughter,  but  that  he 
did  not  intend  to  constrain  him  in  the  matter,  but  left 
him  quite  at  liberty.  This  discourse,  however,  pro- 
nounced with  that  terrifying  majesty  so  natural  to  the 
King,  and  addressed  to  a  timid  young  prince,  took 
away  his  voice,  and  quite  unnerved  him.  He  thought 
to  escape  from  his  slippery  position  by  throwing  him- 
self upon  Monsieur  and  Madame,  and  stammeringly 
replied  that  the  King  was  master,  but  that  a  son's 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  45 

will  depended  upon  that  of  his  parents.  "  What  you 
say  is  very  proper,"  replied  the  King;  "but  as  soon 
as  you  consent  to  my  proposition  your  father  and 
mother  will  not  oppose  it."  And  then  turning  to  Mon- 
sieur he  said,  "Is  this  not  true,  my  brother?" 
Monsieur  consented,  as  he  had  already  done,  and  the 
only  person  remaining  to  consult  was  Madame,  who 
was  immediately  sent  for. 

As  soon  as  she  came,  the  King,  making  her  ac- 
quainted with  his  project,  said  that  he  reckoned  she 
would  not  oppose  what  her  husband  and  her  son  had 
already  agreed  to.  Madame,  who  had  counted  upon 
the  refusal  of  her  son,  was  tongue-tied.  She  threw 
two  furious  glances  upon  Monsieur  and  upon  the  Due 
de  Chartres,  and  then  said  that,  as  they  wished  it, 
she  had  nothing  to  say,  made  a  slight  reverence,  and 
went  away.  Her  son  immediately  followed  her  to 
explain  his  conduct;  but  railing  against  him,  with  tears 
in  her  eyes,  she  would  not  listen,  and  drove  him  from 
her  room.  Her  husband,  who  shortly  afterwards 
joined  her,  met  with  almost  the  same  treatment. 

That  evening  an  "  Apartment "  was  held  at  the  pal- 
ace, as  was  customary  three  times  a  week  during  the 
winter;  the  other  three  evenings  being  set  apart  for 
comedy,  and  the  Sunday  being  free.  An  Apartment, 
as  it  was  called,  was  an  assemblage  of  all  the  Court"  in 
the  grand  saloon,  from  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening 
until  ten,  when  the  King  sat  down  to  table;  and,  after 
ten,  in  one  of  the  saloons  at  the  end  of  the  grand  gal- 
lery towards  the  tribune  of  the  chapel.  In  the  first 
place  there  was  some  music;  then  tables  were  placed 
all  about  for  all  kinds  of  gambling;  there  was  a  lans- 
quenet, at  which  Monsieur  and  Monseigneur  always 
played;  also  a  billiard-table;  in  a  word,  every  one  was 
free  to  'play  with  every  one,  and  allowed  to  ask  for 
fresh  tables  if  all  the  others  were  occupied.     Beyond 


46  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

the  billiards  was  a  refreshment-room.  All  was  per- 
fectly lighted.  At  the  outset,  the  King  went  to  the 
"  apartments  ':  very  often  and  played,  but  lately  he 
had  ceased  to  do  so.  He  spent  the  evening  with  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon,  working  with  different  ministers 
one  after  the  other.  But  still  he  wished  his  courtiers 
to  attend  assiduously. 

This  evening,  directly  after  the  music  had  finished, 
the  King  sent  for  Monseigneur  and  Monsieur,  who 
were  already  playing  at  lansquenet ;  Madame,  who 
scarcely  looked  at  a  party  of  hombre  at  which  she  had 
seated  herself;  the  Due  de  Chartres,  who,  with  a  rue- 
ful visage,  was  playing  at  chess;  and  Mademoiselle  de 
Blois,  who  had  scarcely  begun  to  appear  in  society,  but 
who  this  evening  was  extraordinarily  decked  out,  and 
who,  as  yet,  knew  nothing  and  suspected  nothing;  and 
therefore,  being  naturally  very  timid,  and  horribly 
afraid  of  the  King,  believed  herself  sent  for  in  order 
to  be  reprimanded,  and  trembled  so  that  Madame  de 
Maintenon  took  her  upon  her  knees,  where  she  held 
her,  but  was  scarcely  able  to  reassure  her.  The  fact 
of  these  royal  persons  being  sent  for  by  the  King  at 
once  made  people  think  that  a  marriage  was  in  con- 
templation. In  a  few  minutes  they  returned,  and  then 
the  announcement  was  made  public.  I  arrived  at  that 
moment.  I  found  everybody  in  clusters,  and  great  as- 
tonishment expressed  upon  every  face.  Madame  was 
walking  in  the  gallery  with  Chateauthiers — her  fa- 
vourite, and  worthy  of  being  so.  She  took  long 
strides,  her  handkerchief  in  her  hand,  weeping  with- 
out constraint,  speaking  pretty  loudly,  gesticulating, 
and  looking  like  Ceres  after  the  rape  of  her  daughter 
Proserpine,  seeking  her  in  fury,  and  demanding  her 
back  from  Jupiter.  Every  one  respectfully  made  way 
to  let  her  pass.  Monsieur,  who  had  returned  to 
lansquenet,  seemed  overwhelmed  with  shame,  and  his 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  42 

son  appeared  in  despair;  and  the  bride-elect  was  mar- 
vellously embarrassed  and  sad.  Though  very  young, 
and  likely  to  be  dazzled  by  such  a  marriage,  she  un- 
derstood what  was  passing,  and  feared  the  conse- 
quences.    Most  people  appeared  full  of  consternation. 

The  Apartment,  which,  however  heavy  in  appear- 
ance, was  full  of  interest  to  me,  seemed  quite  short. 
It  finished  by  the  supper  of  the  King.  His  Majesty 
appeared  quite  at  ease.  Madame's  eyes  were  full  of 
tears,  which  fell  from  time  to  time  as  she  looked  into 
every  face  around,  as  if  in  search  of  all  our  thoughts. 
Her  son,  whose  eyes  too  were  red,  she  would  not  give 
a  glance  to;  nor  to  Monsieur:  all  three  ate  scarcely 
anything.  I  remarked  that  the  King  offered  Madame 
nearly  all  the  dishes  that  were  before  him,  and  that 
she  refused  with  an  air  of  rudeness  which  did  not, 
however,  check  his  politeness.  It  was  furthermore  no- 
ticeable that,  after  leaving  the  table,  he  made  to  Ma- 
dame a  very  marked  and  very  low  reverence,  during 
which  she  performed  so  complete  a  pirouette,  that  the 
King  on  raising  his  head  found  nothing  but  her  back 
before  him,  removed  about  a  step  further  towards  the 
door. 

On  the  morrow  we  went  as  usual  to  wait  in  the  gal- 
lery for  the  breaking-up  of  the  council,  and  for  the 
King's  Mass.  Madame  came  there.  Her  son  ap- 
proached her,  as  he  did  every  day,  to  kiss  her  hand. 
At  that  very  moment  she  gave  him  a  box  on  the  ear, 
so  sonorous  that  it  was  heard  several  steps  distant. 
Such  treatment  in  presence  of  all  the  Court  covered 
with  confusion  this  unfortunate  prince,  and  over- 
whelmed the  infinite  number  of  spectators,  of  whom  I 
was  one,  with  prodigious  astonishment. 

That  day  the  immense  dowry  was  declared;  and  on 
Sunday  there  was  a  grand  ball,  that  is,  a  ball  opened 
by  a  branle,  which  settled  the  order  of  the  dancing 


48  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

throughout  the  evening.  Monseigneur  the  Due  de 
Bourgogne  danced  on  this  occasion  for  the  first  time; 
and  led  off  the  branle  with  Mademoiselle.  I  danced 
also  for  the  first  time  at  Court.  My  partner  was 
Mademoiselle  de  Sourches,  daughter  of  the  Grand 
Prevot;  she  danced  excellently.  I  had  been  that  morn- 
ing to  wait  on  Madame,  who  could  not  refrain  from 
saying,  in  a  sharp  and  angry  voice,  that  I  was  doubt- 
less very  glad  of  the  promise  of  so  many  balls — that 
this  was  natural  at  my  age;  but  that,  for  her  part, 
she  was  old,  and  wished  they  were  well  over.  A  few 
days  after,  the  contract  of  marriage  was  signed  in  the 
closet  of  the  King,  and  in  the  presence  of  all  the 
Court.  The  same  day  the  household  of  the  future 
Duchesse  de  Chartres  was  declared.  The  King  gave 
her  a  first  gentleman  usher  and  a  Dame  d'Atours,  un- 
til then  reserved  to  the  daughters  of  France,  and  a 
lady  of  honour,  in  order  to  carry  out  completely  so 
strange  a  novelty.  I  must  say  something  about  the 
persons  who  composed  this  household. 

M.  de  Villars  was  gentleman  usher;  he  was  grand- 
son of  a  recorder  of  Coindrieu,  and  one  of  the  best 
made  men  in  France.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  fight- 
ing in  his  young  days,  and  he  had  acquired  a  reputa- 
tion for  courage  and  skill.  To  these  qualities  he  owed 
his  fortune.  M.  de  Nemours  was  his  first  patron,  and, 
in  a  duel  which  he  had  with  M.  de  Beaufort,  took 
Villars  for  second.  M.  de  Nemours  Was  killed;  but 
Villars  was  victorious  against  his  adversary,  and 
passed  into  the  service  of  the  Prince  de  Conti  as  one 
of  his  gentlemen.  He  succeeded  in  gaining  confidence 
in  his  new  employment;  so  much  so,  that  the  marriage 
which  afterwards  took  place  between  the  Prince  de 
Conti  and  the  niece  of  Cardinal  Mazarin  was  brought 
about  in  part  by  his  assistance.  He  became  the  con- 
fidant of  the  married  pair,  and  their  bond  of  union 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  49 

with  the  Cardinal.  His  position  gave  him  an  oppor- 
tunity of  mixing  in  society  much  above  him;  but  on 
this  he  never  presumed.  His  face  was  his  passport 
with  the  ladies :  he  was  gallant,  even  discreet ;  and  this 
means  was  not  unuseful  to  him.  He  pleased  Madame 
Scarron,  who  upon  the  throne  never  forgot  the  friend- 
ships of  this  kind,  so  freely  intimate,  which  she  had 
formed  as  a  private  person.  Villars  was  employed  in 
diplomacy ;  and  from  honour  to  honour,  at  last  reached 
the  order  of  the  Saint  Esprit,  in  1698.  His  wife  was 
full  of  wit,  and  scandalously  inclined.  Both  were  very 
poor — and  always  dangled  about  the  Court,  where  they 
had  many  powerful  friends. 

The  Marechale  de  Rochefort  was  lady  of  honour. 
She  was  of  the  house  of  Montmorency — a  widow — • 
handsome — sprightly;  formed  by  nature  to  live  at 
Court — apt  for  gallantry  and  intrigues;  full  of  worldly 
cleverness,  from  living  much  in  the  world,  with  little 
cleverness  of  any  other  kind,  nearly  enough  for  any 
post  and  any  business.  M.  de  Louvois  found  her 
suited  to  his  taste,  and  she  accommodated  herself  very 
well  to  his  purse,  and  to  the  display  she  made  by  this 
intimacy.  She  always  became  the  friend  of  every 
new  mistress  of  the  King;  and  when  he  favoured  Ma- 
dame de  Soubise,  it  was  at  the  Marechale's  house  that 
she  waited,  with  closed  doors,  for  Bontems,  the  King's 
valet,  who  led  her  by  private  ways  to  his  Majesty. 
The  Marechale  herself  has  related  to  me  how  one  day 
she  was  embarrassed  to  get  rid  of  the  people  that 
Madame  de  Soubise  (who  had  not  had  time  to  an- 
nounce her  arrival)  found  at  her  house;  and  how  she 
almost  died  of  fright  lest  Bontems  should  return  and 
the  interview  be  broken  off  if  he  arrived  before  the 
company  had  departed.  The  Marechale  de  Rochefort 
was  in  this  way  the  friend  of  Mesdames  de  la  Valliere, 
de  Montespan,  and  de  Soubise;  and  she  became  the 


50  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

friend  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  to  whom  she  at- 
tached herself  in  proportion  as  she  saw  her  favour  in- 
crease. She  had,  at  the  marriage  of  Monseigneur, 
been  made  Dame  d'Atours  to  the  new  Dauphiness; 
and,  if  people  were  astonished  at  that,  they  were  also 
astonished  to  see  her  lady  of  honour  to  an  "  illegiti- 
mate grand-daughter  of  France." 

The  Comtesse  de  Mailly  was  Dame  d'Atours.  She 
was  related  to  Madame  de  Maintenon,  to  whose  favour 
she  owed  her  marriage  with  the  Comte  de  Mailly.  She 
had  come  to  Paris  with  all  her  provincial  awkward- 
ness, and,  from  want  of  wit,  had  never  been  able 
to  get  rid  of  it.  On  the  contrary,  she  grafted  thereon 
an  immense  conceit,  caused  by  the  favour  of  Madame 
de  Maintenon.  To  complete  the  household,  came  M. 
de  Fontaine-Martel,  poor  and  gouty,  who  was  first 
master  of  the  horse. 

On  the  Monday  before  Shrove  Tuesday,  all  the 
marriage  party  and  the  bride  and  bridegroom, 
superbly  dressed,  repaired,  a  little  before  mid-day,  to 
the  closet  of  the  King,  and  afterwards  to  the  chapel. 
It  was  arranged,  as  usual,  for  the  Mass  of  the  King, 
excepting  that  between  his  place  and  the  altar  were 
two  cushions  for  the  bride  and  bridegroom,  who 
turned  their  backs  to  the  King.  Cardinal  de  Bouillon, 
in  full  robes,  married  them,  and  said.  Mass.  From 
the  chapel  all  the  company  went  to  table :  it  was  of 
horse-shoe  shape.  The  Princes  and  Princesses  of  the 
blood  were  placed  at  the  right  and  at  the  left,  accord- 
ing to  their  rank,  terminated  by  the  two  illegitimate 
children  of  the  King,  and,  for  the  first  time,  after 
them,  the  Duchesse  de  Verneuil;  so  that  M.  de 
Verneuil,  illegitimate  son  of  Henry  IV.,  became  thus 
"  Prince  of  the  blood  "  so  many  years  after  his  death, 
without  having  ever  suspected  it.  The  Due  d'Uzes 
thought  this  so  amusing  that  he  marched  in  front  of 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  51 

the  Duchess,  crying  out,  as  loud  as  he  could — "  Place, 
place  for  Madame  Charlotte  Seguier !  "  In  the  after- 
noon the  King  and  Queen  of  England  came  to  Ver- 
sailles with  their  Court.  There  was  a  great  concert; 
and  the  play-tables  were  set  out.  The  supper  was 
similar  to  the  dinner.  Afterwards  the  married  couple 
were  led  into  the  apartment  of  the  new  Duchesse  de 
Chartres.  The  Queen  of  England  gave  the  Duchess 
her  chemise;  and  the  shirt  of  the  Duke  was  given  to 
him  by  the  King,  who  had  at  first  refused  on  the  plea 
that  he  was  in  too  unhappy  circumstances.  The  bene- 
diction of  the  bed  was  pronounced  by  the  Cardinal  de 
Bouillon,  who  kept  us  all  waiting  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour;  which  made  people  say  that  such  airs  little 
became  a  man  returned  as  he  was  from  a  long  exile, 
to  which  he  had  been  sent  because  he  had  had  the 
madness  to  refuse  the  nuptial  benediction  to  Madame 
la  Duchesse  unless  admitted  to  the  royal  banquet. 

On  Shrove  Tuesday,  there  was  a  grand  toilette  of 
the  Duchesse  de  Chartres,  to  which  the  King  and  all 
the  Court  came;  and  in  the  evening  a  grand  ball, 
similar  to  that  which  had  just  taken  place,  except  that 
the  new  Duchesse  de  Chartres  was  led  out  by  the 
Due  de  Bourgogne.  Every  one  wore  the  same  dress, 
and  had  the  same  partner  as  before. 

I  cannot  pass  over  in  silence  a  very  ridiculous  ad- 
venture which  occurred  at  both  of  these  balls.  A  son 
of  Montbron,  no  more  made  to  dance  at  Court  than 
his  father  was  to  be  chevalier  of  the  order  (to  which 
however,  he  was  promoted  in  1688),  was  among  the 
company.  He  had  been  asked  if  he  danced  well; 
and  he  had  replied  with  a  confidence  which  made 
every  one  hope  that  the  contrary  was  the  case.  Every 
one  was  satisfied.  From  the  very  first  bow,  he  became 
confused,  and  he  lost  step  at  once.  He  tried  to  divert 
attention  from  his  mistake  by  affected  attitudes,  and 


52  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

carrying  his  arms  high;  but  this  made  him  only  more 
ridiculous,  and  excited  bursts  of  laughter,  which,  in 
despite  of  the  respect  due  to  the  person  of  the  King 
(who  likewise  had  great  difficulty  to  hinder  himself 
from  laughing),  degenerated  at  length  into  regular 
hooting.  On  the  morrow,  instead  of  flying  the  Court 
or  holding  his  tongue,  he  excused  himself  by  saying 
that  the  presence  of  the  King  had  disconcerted  him, 
and  promised  marvels  for  the  ball  which  was  to  follow. 
He  was  one  of  my  friends,  and  I  felt  for  him.  I 
should  even  have  warned  him  against  a  second  at- 
tempt, if  the  very  indifferent  success  I  had  met  with 
had  not  made  me  fear  that  my  advice  would  be  taken 
in  ill  part.  As  soon  as  he  began  to  dance  at  the 
second  ball,  those  who  were  near  stood  up,  those  who 
were  far  off  climbed  wherever  they  could  get  a  sight; 
and  the  shouts  of  laughter  were  mingled  with  clapping 
of  hands.  Every  one,  even  the  King  himself,  laughed 
heartily,  and  most  of  us  quite  loud,  so  that  I  do  not 
think  any  one  was  ever  treated  so  before.  Montbron 
disappeared  immediately  afterwards,  and  did  not  show 
himself  again  for  a  long  time.  It  was  a  pity  he  ex- 
posed himself  to  this  defeat,  for  he  was  an  honour- 
able and  brave  man. 

Ash  Wednesday  put  an  end  to  all  these  sad  rejoicings 
by  command,  and  only  the  expected  rejoicings  were 
spoken  of.  M.  du  Maine  wished  to  marry.  The  King 
tried  to  turn  him  from  it,  and  said  frankly  to  him,  that 
it  was  not  for  such  as  he  to  make  a  lineage.  But 
pressed  by  Madame  de  Maintenon,  who  had  educated 
M.  du  Maine,  and  who  felt  for  him  as  a  nurse, 
the  King  resolved  to  marry  him  to  a  daughter  of  the 
Prince  de  Conde.  The  Prince  was  greatly  pleased  at 
the  project.  He  had  three  daughters  for  M.  du  Maine 
to  choose  from:  all  three  were  extremely  little.  An 
inch  of  height,  that  the  second  had  above  the  otherst 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  53 

procured  for  her  the  preference,  much  to  the  grief  of 
the  eldest,  who  was  beautiful  and  clever,  and  who 
dearly  wished  to  escape  from  the  slavery  in  which  her 
father  kept  her.  The  dignity  with  which  she  bore  her 
disappointment  was  admired  by  every  one,  but  it  cost 
her  an  effort  that  ruined  her  health.  The  marriage 
once  arranged,  was  celebrated  on  the  19th  of  March, 
much  in  the  same  manner  as  had  been  that  of  the  Due 
de  Chartres.  Madame  de  Saint-Vallery  was  appointed 
lady  of  honour  to  Madame  du  Maine,  and  M.  de  Mont- 
chevreuil  gentleman  of  the  chamber.  This  last  had 
been  one  of  the  friends  of  Madame  de  Maintenon  when 
she  was  Madame  Scarron.  Montchevreuil  was  a  very 
honest  man,  modest,  brave,  but  thick-headed.  His 
wife  was  a  tall  creature,  meagre,  and  yellow,  who 
laughed  sillily,  and  showed  long  and  ugly  teeth;  who 
was  extremely  devout,  of  a  compassed  mien,  and  who 
only  wanted  a  broomstick  to  be  a  perfect  witch.  With- 
out possessing  any  wit,  she  had  so  captivated  Madame 
de  Maintenon,  that  the  latter  saw  only  with  her  eyes. 
All  the  ladies  of  the  Court  were  under  her  surveillance: 
they  depended  upon  her  for  their  distinctions,  and 
often  for  their  fortunes.  Everybody,  from  the  min- 
isters to  the  daughters  of  the  King,  trembled  before 
her.  The  King  himself  showed  her  the  most  marked 
consideration.  She  was  of  all  the  Court  journeys, 
and  always  with  Madame  de  Maintenon. 

The  marriage  of  M.  du  Maine  caused  a  rupture  be- 
tween the  Princess  de  Conde  and  the  Duchess  of  Han- 
over her  sister,  who  had  strongly  desired  M.  du  Maine 
for  one  of  her  daughters,  and  who  pretended  that  the 
Prince  de  Conde  had  cut  the  grass  from  under  her 
feet.  She  lived  in  Paris,  making  a  display  quite  un- 
suited  to  her  rank,  and  had  even  carried  it  so  far  as 
to  go  about  with  two  coaches  and  many  liveried 
servants.     With  this  state  one  day  she  met  in  the 


54  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

streets  the  coach  of  Madame  de  Bouillon,  which  the 
servants  of  the  German  woman  forced  to  give  way  to 
their  mistress's.  The  Bouillons,  piqued  to  excess,  re- 
solved to  be  revenged.  One  day,  when  they  knew  the 
Duchess  was  going  to  the  play,  they  went  there  at- 
tended by  a  numerous  livery.  Their  servants  had 
orders  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  those  of  the  Duchess. 
They  executed  these  orders  completely;  the  servants  of 
the  Duchess  were  thoroughly  thrashed — the  harness  of 
her  horses  cut — her  coaches  maltreated.  The  Duchess 
made  a  great  fuss,  and  complained  to  the  King,  but 
he  would  not  mix  himself  in  the  matter.  She  was  so 
outraged,  that  she  resolved  to  retire  into  Germany, 
and  in  a  very  few  months  did  so. 

My  year  of  service  in  the  Musketeers  being  over, 
the  King,  after  a  time,  gave  me,  without  purchase,  a 
company  of  cavalry  in  the  Royal  Roussillon,  in  garri- 
son at  Mons,  and  just  then  very  incomplete.  I  thanked 
the  King,  who  replied  to  me  very  obligingly.  The 
company  was  entirely  made  up  in  a  fortnight.  This 
was  towards  the  middle  of  April. 

A  little  before,  that  is,  on  the  27th  of  March,  the 
King  made  seven  new  marechals  of  France.  They 
were  the  Comte  de  Choiseul,  the  Due  de  Villeroy,  the 
Marquis  de  Joyeuse,  Tourville,  the  Due  de  Noailles, 
the  Marquis  de  Boufflers,  and  Catinat.  These  pro- 
motions caused  very  great  discontent.  Complaint  was 
more  especially  made  that  the  Due  de  Choiseul  had  not 
been  named.  The  cause  of  his  exclusion  is  curious. 
His  wife,  beautiful,  with  the  form  of  a  goddess — 
notorious  for  the  number  of  her  gallantries — was  very 
intimate  with  the  Princess  de  Conti.  The  King,  not 
liking  such  a  companion  for  his  daughter,  gave  the 
Due  de  Choiseul  to  understand  that  the  public  dis- 
orders of  the  Duchess  offended  him.  If  the  Duke 
would  send  her  into  a  convent,  the  Marechal's  baton 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  55 

would  be  his.  The  Due  de  Choiseul,  indignant  that 
the  reward  of  his  services  in  the  war  was  attached  to  a 
domestic  affair  which  concerned  himself  alone,  refused 
promotion  on  such  terms.  He  thus  lost  the  baton; 
and,  what  was  worse  for  him,  the  Duchess  soon  after 
was  driven  from  Court,  and  so  misbehaved  herself, 
that  at  last  he  could  endure  her  no  longer,  drove  her 
away  himself,  and  separated  from  her  for  ever. 

Mademoiselle — la  grande  Mademoiselle,  as  she  was 
called,  to  distinguish  her  from  the  daughter  of  Mon- 
sieur— or  to  call  her  by  her  name,  Mademoiselle  de 
Montpensier, — died  on  Sunday  the  5th  of  April,  at 
her  palace  in  the  Luxembourg,  sixty-three  years  of  age, 
and  the  richest  private  princess  in  Europe.  She  inter- 
ested herself  much  in  those  who  were  related  to  her, 
even  to  the  lowest  degree,  and  wore  mourning  for 
them,  however  far  removed.  It  is  well  known,  from 
all  the  memoirs  of  the  time,  that  she  was  greatly  in 
love  with  M.  de  Lauzun,  and  that  she  suffered  much 
when  the  King  withheld  his  permission  to  their  mar- 
riage. M.  de  Lauzun  was  so  enraged,  that  he  could 
not  contain  himself,  and  at  last  went  so  far  beyond 
bounds,  that  he  was  sent  prisoner  to  Pignerol,  where 
he  remained,  extremely  ill-treated,  for  ten  years.  The 
affection  of  Mademoiselle  did  not  grow  cold  by  separa- 
tion. The  King  profited  by  it,  to  make  M.  de  Lauzun 
buy  his  liberty  at  her  expense,  and  thus  enriched  M. 
du  Maine.  He  always  gave  out  that  he  had  married 
Mademoiselle,  and  appeared  before  the  King,  after 
her  death,  in  a  long  cloak,  which  gave  great  dis- 
pleasure. He  also  assumed  ever  afterwards  a  dark 
brown  livery,  as  an  external  expression  of  his  grief 
for  Mademoiselle,  of  whom  he  had  portraits  every- 
where. As  for  Mademoiselle,  the  King  never  quite 
forgave  her  the  day  of  Saint  Antoine;  and  I  heard 
him  once  at  supper  reproach  her  in  jest,  for  having 


56  DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON 

fired  the  cannons  of  the  Bastille  upon  his  troops.  She 
was  a  little  embarrassed,  but  she  got  out  of  the  dif- 
ficulty very  well. 

Her  body  was  laid  out  with  great  state,  watched 
for  several  days,  two  hours  at  a  time,  by  a  duchess  or 
a  princess,  and  by  two  ladies  of  quality.  The  Comtesse 
de  Soissons  refused  to  take  part  in  this  watching,  and 
would  not  obey  until  the  King  threatened  to  dismiss 
her  from  the  Court.  A  very  ridiculous  accident  hap- 
pened in  the  midst  of  this  ceremony.  The  urn  con- 
taining the  entrails  fell  over,  with  a  frightful  noise 
and  a  stink  sudden  and  intolerable.  The  ladies,  the 
heralds,  the  psalmodists,  everybody  present  fled,  in 
confusion.  Every  one  tried  to  gain  the  door  first. 
The  entrails  had  been  badly  embalmed,  and  it  was  their 
fermentation  which  caused  the  accident.  They  were 
soon  perfumed  and  put  in  order,  and  everybody 
laughed  at  this  mishap.  These  entrails  were  in  the 
end  carried  to  the  Celestins,  the  heart  to  Val  de 
Grace,  and  the  body  to  the  Cathedral  of  Saint  Denis, 
followed  by  a  numerous  company. 


CHAPTER  III 

ON  May  3d,  1693,  the  King  announced  his  in- 
tention of  placing  himself  at  the  head  of  his 
army  in  Flanders,  and,  having  made  certain 
alterations  in  the  rule  of  precedence  of  the  marechale 
of  France,  soon  after  began  the  campaign.  I  have 
here,  however,  to  draw  attention  to  my  private  affairs, 
for  on  the  above-mentioned  day,  at  ten  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  I  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  my  father. 
He  was  eighty-seven  years  of  age,  and  had  been  in 
bad  health  for  some  time,  with  a  touch  of  gout  during 
the  last  three  weeks.  On  the  day  in  question  he  had 
dined  as  usual  with  his  friends,  had  retired  to  bed, 
and,  while  talking  to  those  around  him  there,  all  at 
once  gave  three  violent  sighs.  He  was  dead  almost 
before  it  was  perceived  that  he  was  ill;  there  was  no 
more  oil  in  the  lamp. 

I  learned  this  sad  news  after  seeing  the  King  to  bed; 
his  Majesty  was  to  purge  himself  on  the  morrow.  The 
night  was  given  to  the  just  sentiments  of  nature;  but 
the  next  day  I  went  early  to  visit  Bontems,  and  then 
the  Due  de  Beauvilliers,  who  promised  to  ask  the 
King,  as  soon  as  his  curtains  were  opened,  to  grant 
me  the  offices  my  father  had  held.  The  King  very 
graciously  complied  with  his  request,  and  in  the  after- 
noon said  many  obliging  things  to  me,  particularly 
expressing  his  regret  that  my  father  had  not  been  able 
to  receive  the  last  sacraments.  I  was  able  to  say  that 
a  very  short  time  before,  my  father  had  retired  for 
several  days  to  Saint  Lazare,  where  was  his  confessor, 
•and  added  something  on  the  piety  of  his  life.     The 

57 


58  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

King  exhorted  me  to  behave  well,  and  promised  to 
take  care  of  me.     When  my   father  was  first  taken 
ill,     several    persons,    amongst    others,    D'Aubigne, 
brother  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  had  asked  for  the 
governorship  of  Blaye.     But  the  King  refused  them 
all,  and  said  very  bluntly  to  D'Aubigne,  "  Is  there  not 
a  son?  ';     He  had,  in  fact,  always  given  my  father  to 
understand  I  should  succeed  him,  although  generally 
he  did  not  allow  offices  to  descend  from  father  to  son. 
Let  me  say  a  few  words  about  my  father.    Our  fam- 
ily in  my  grandfather's  time  had  become  impoverished; 
and  my  father  was  early  sent  to  the  Court  as  page  to 
Louis  XIII.    It  was  very  customary  then  for  the  sons 
of  reduced  gentlemen  to  accept  this  occupation.     The 
King  was  passionately   fond  of  hunting,   an  amuse- 
ment that  was  carried  on  with  far  less  state,  without 
that   abundance    of   dogs,    and    followers,   and   con- 
venience of  all  kinds  which  his  successor  introduced, 
and  especially  without  roads  through  the  forests.    My 
father,  who  noticed  the  impatience  of  the  King  at  the 
delays  that  occurred  in  changing  horses,  thought  of 
turning  the  head  of  the  horse  he  brought  towards  the 
crupper  of   that   which   the   King  quitted.     By  this 
means,  without  putting  his   feet  to  the  ground,  his 
Majesty,   who   was   active,   jumped   from  one   horse 
to   another.     He   was  so  pleased  that   whenever  he 
changed  horses  he  asked  for  this  same  page.     From 
that  time  my  father  grew  day  by  day  in  favour.     The 
King  made  him  Chief  Ecuyer,  and  in  course  of  years 
bestowed  other  rewards  upon  him,  created  him  Duke 
and  peer  of  France,  and  gave  him  the  Government  of 
Blaye.     My  father,  much  attached  to  the  King,  fol- 
lowed him  in  all  his  expeditions,  several  times  com- 
manded the  cavalry  of  the  army,  was  commander-in- 
chief  of  all  the  arrierebans  of  the  kingdom,  and  ac- 
quired great  reputation  in  the  field  for  his  valour  and 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  59 

skill.  With  Cardinal  Richelieu  he  was  intimate  with- 
out sympathy,  and  more  than  once,  but  notably  on  the 
famous  Day  of  the  Dupes,  rendered  signal  service  to 
that  minister.  My  father  used  often  to  be  startled 
out  of  his  sleep  in  the  middle  of  the  night  by  a  valet, 
with  a  taper  in  his  hand,  drawing  the  curtain — having 
behind  him  the  Cardinal  de  Richelieu,  who  would  often 
take  the  taper  and  sit  down  upon  the  bed  and  exclaim 
that  he  was  a  lost  man,  and  ask  my  father's  advice 
upon  news  that  he  had  received  or  on  quarrels  he 
had  had  with  the  King.  When  all  Paris  was  in  con- 
sternation at  the  success  of  the  Spaniards,  who  had 
crossed  the  frontier,  taken  Corbie,  and  seized  all  the 
country  as  far  as  Compiegne,  the  King  insisted  on 
my  father  being  present  at  the  council  which  was  then 
held.  The  Cardinal  de  Richelieu  maintained  that  the 
King  should  retreat  beyond  the  Seine,  and  all  the 
assembly  seemed  of  that  opinion.  But  the  King  in  a 
speech  which  lasted  a  quarter  of  an  hour  opposed  this, 
and  said  that  to  retreat  at  such  a  moment  would  be  to 
increase  the  general  disorder.  Then  turning  to  my 
father  he  ordered  him  to  be  prepared  to  depart  for 
Corbie  on  the  morrow,  with  as  many  of  his  men  as  he 
could  get  ready.  The  histories  and  the  memoirs  of 
the  time  show  that  this  bold  step  saved  the  state.  The 
Cardinal,  great  man  as  he  was,  trembled,  until  the 
first  appearance  of  success,  when  he  grew  bold  enough 
to  join  the  King.  This  is  a  specimen  of  the  conduct 
of  that  weak  King  governed  by  that  first  minister  to 
whom  poets  and  historians  have  given  the  glory  they 
have  stripped  from  his  master;  as,  for  instance,  all  the 
works  of  the  siege  of  Rochelle,  and  the  invention  and 
unheard-of  success  of  the  celebrated  dyke,  all  solely 
due  to  the  late  King! 

Louis  XIII.  loved  my   father;   but  he  could  scold 
him  at  times.    On  two  occasions  he  did  so.    The  first, 


6o  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

as  my  father  has  related  to  me,  was  on  account  of  the 
Due  de  Bellegarde.  The  Duke  was  in  disgrace,  and 
had  been  exiled.  My  father,  who  was  a  friend  of  his, 
wished  to  write  to  him  one  day,  and  for  want  of  other 
leisure,  being  then  much  occupied,  took  the  oppor- 
tunity of  the  King's  momentary  absence  to  carry  out 
his  desire.  Just  as  he  was  finishing  his  letter,  the 
King  came  in;  my  father  tried  to  hide  the  paper,  but 
the  eyes  of  the  King  were  too  quick  for  him.  "  What 
is  that  paper?'  said  he.  My  father,  embarrassed, 
admitted  that  it  was  a  few  words  he  had  written  to 
M.  de  Bellegarde. 

"  Let  me  see  it,"  said  the  King;  and  he  took  the 
paper  and  read  it.  "  I  don't  find  fault  with  you," 
said  he,  "  for  writing  to  your  friends,  although  in 
disgrace,  for  I  know  you  will  write  nothing  improper; 
but  what  displeases  me  is,  that  you  should  fail  in  the 
respect  you  owe  to  a  duke  and  peer,  in  that,  because 
he  is  exiled,  you  should  omit  to  address  him  as 
Monseigneur;  "  and  then  tearing  the  letter  in  two,  he 
added,  "  Write  it  again  after  the  hunt,  and  put 
Monseigneur,  as  you  ought."  My  father  was  very 
glad  to  be  let  off  so  easily. 

The  other  reprimand  was  upon  a  more  serious  sub- 
ject. The  King  was  really  enamoured  of  Made- 
moiselle d'Hautefort.  My  father,  young  and  gallant, 
could  not  comprehend  why  he  did  not  gratify  his  love. 
He  believed  his  reserve  to  arise  from  timidity,  and 
under  this  impression  proposed  one  day  to  the  King 
to  be  his  ambassador  and  to  bring  the  affair  to  a 
satisfactory  conclusion.  The  King  allowed  him  to 
speak  to  the  end,  and  then  assumed  a  severe  air.  '  It 
is  true,"  said  he,  "  that  I  am  enamoured  of  her,  that 
I  feel  it,  that  I  seek  her,  that  I  speak  of  her  willingly, 
and  think  of  her  still  more  willingly;  it  is  true  also 
that  I  act  thus  in  spite  of  myself,  because  I  am  mortal 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  61 

and  have  this  weakness;  but  the  more  facility  I  have 
as  King  to  gratify  myself,  the  more  I  ought  to  be  on 
my  guard  against  sin  and  scandal.  I  pardon  you  this 
time,  but  never  address  to  me  a  similar  discourse  again 
if  you  wish  that  I  should  continue  to  love  you."  This 
was  a  thunderbolt  for  my  father;  the  scales  fell  from 
his  eyes;  the  idea  of  the  King's  timidity  in  love  dis- 
appeared before  the  display  of  a  virtue  so  pure  and 
so  triumphant. 

My  father's  career  was  for  a  long  time  very  suc- 
cessful, but  unfortunately  he  had  an  enemy  who 
brought  it  to  an  end.  This  enemy  was  M.  de 
Chavigny :  he  was  secretary  of  state,  and  had  also 
the  war  department.  Either  from  stupidity  or  malice 
he  had  left  all  the  towns  in  Picardy  badly  supported; 
a  circumstance  the  Spaniards  knew  well  how  to  profit 
by  when  they  took  Corbie  in  1636.  My  father  had  an 
uncle  who  commanded  in  one  of  these  towns,  La 
Capelle,  and  who  had  several  times  asked  for  am- 
munition and  stores  without  success.  My  father  spoke 
upon  this  subject  to  Chavigny,  to  the  Cardinal  de 
Richelieu,  and  to  the  King,  but  with  no  good  effect. 
La  Capelle,  left  without  resources,  fell  like  the  places 
around.  As  I  have  said  before,  Louis  XIII.  did  not 
long  allow  the  Spaniards  to  enjoy  the  advantages  they 
had  gained.  All  the  towns  in  Picardy  were  soon  re- 
taken, and  the  King,  urged  on  by  Chavigny,  deter- 
mined to  punish  the  governors  of  these  places  for  sur- 
rendering them  so  easily.  My  father's  uncle  was  in- 
cluded with  the  others.  This  injustice  was  not  to 
be  borne.  My  father  represented  the  real  state  of  the 
case  and  used  every  effort  to  save  his  uncle,  but  it 
was  in  vain.  Stung  to  the  quick  he  demanded  per- 
mission to  retire,  and  was  allowed  to  do  so.  Accord- 
ingly, at  the  commencement  of  1637,  he  left  for 
Blaye,  and  remained  there  until  the  death  of  Cardinal 


62  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

Richelieu.  During  this  retirement  the  King  frequently 
wrote  to  him,  in  a  language  they  had  composed  so  as 
to  speak  before  people  without  being  understood;  and 
I  possess  still  many  of  these  letters,  with  much  regret 
that  I  am  ignorant  of  their  contents. 

Chavigny  served  my  father  another  ill  turn.  At  the 
Cardinal's  death  my  father  had  returned  to  the  Court 
and  was  in  greater  favour  than  ever.  Just  before 
Louis  XIII.  died  he  gave  my  father  the  place  of  first 
master  of  the  horse,  but  left  his  name  blank  in  the 
paper  fixing  the  appointment.  The  paper  was  given 
into  the  hands  of  Chavigny.  At  the  King's  death  he 
had  the  villainy,  in  concert  with  the  Queen-regent, 
to  fill  in  the  name  of  Comte  d'Harcourt,  instead  of 
that  the  King  had  instructed  him  of.  The  indignation 
of  my  father  was  great,  but,  as  he  could  obtain  no 
redress,  he  retired  once  again  to  his  Government  of 
Blaye.  Notwithstanding  the  manner  in  which  he  had 
been  treated  by  the  Queen-regent,  he  stoutly  defended 
her  cause  when  the  civil  war  broke  out,  led  by  M.  le 
Prince.  He  garrisoned  Blaye  at  his  own  expense, 
incurring  thereby  debts  which  hung  upon  him  all  his 
life,  and  which  I  feel  the  effects  of  still,  and  repulsed 
all  attempts  of  friends  to  corrupt  his  loyalty.  The 
Queen 'and  Mazarin  could  not  close  their  eyes  to  his 
devotion,  and  offered  him,  while  the  war  was  still 
going  on,  a  marechal's  baton,  or  the  title  of  foreign 
prince.  But  he  refused  both,  and  the  offer  was  not 
renewed  when  the  war  ended.  These  disturbances 
over,  and  Louis  XIV.  being  married,  my  father  came 
again  to  Paris,  where  he  had  many  friends.  He  had 
married  in  1644,  and  had  had,  as  I  have  said,  one 
only  daughter.  His  wife  dying  in  1670,  and  leaving 
him  without  male  children,  he  determined,  however 
much  he  might  be  afflicted  at  the  loss  he  had  sustained, 
to  marry  again,   although  old.     He   carried   out  his 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  63 

resolution  in  October  of  the  same  year,  and  was  very- 
pleased  with  the  choice  he  had  made.  He  liked  his 
new  wife  so  much,  in  fact,  that  when  Madame  de 
Montespan  obtained  for  her  a  place  at  the  Court,  he 
declined  it  at  once.  At  his  age — it  was  thus  he  wrote 
to  Madame  de  Montespan, — he  had  taken  a  wife  not 
for  the  Court,  but  for  himself.  My  mother,  who  was 
absent  when  the  letter  announcing  the  appointment 
was  sent,  felt  much  regret,  but  never  showed  it. 

Before  I  finish  this  account  of  my  father,  I  will 
here  relate  adventures  which  happened  to  him,  and 
which  I  ought  to  have  placed  before  his  second  mar- 
riage. A  disagreement  arose  between  my  father  and 
M.  de  Vardes,  and  still  existed  long  after  everybody 
thought  they  were  reconciled.  It  was  ultimately 
agreed  that  upon  an  early  day,  at  about  twelve  o'clock, 
they  should  meet  at  the  Porte  St.  Honore,  then  a  very 
deserted  spot,  and  that  the  coach  of  M.  de  Vardes 
should  run  against  my  father's,  and  a  general  quarrel 
arise  between  masters  and  servants.  Under  cover  of 
this  quarrel,  a  duel  could  easily  take  place,  and  would 
seem  simply  to  arise  out  of  the  broil  there  and  then 
occasioned.  On  the  morning  appointed,  my  father 
called  as  usual  upon  several  of  his  friends,  and,  taking 
one  of  them  for  second,  went  to  the  Porte  St.  Honore. 
There  everything  fell  out  just  as  had  been  arranged. 
The  coach  of  M.  de  Vardes  struck  against  the  other. 
My  father  leaped  out,  M.  de  Vardes  did  the  same,  and 
the  duel  took  place.  M.  de  Vardes  fell,  and  was  dis- 
armed. My  father  wished  to  make  him  beg  for  his 
life;  he  would  not  do  this,  but  confessed  himself 
vanquished.  My  father's  coach  being  the  nearest,  M. 
de  Vardes  got  into  it.  He  fainted  on  the  road.  They 
separated  afterwards  like  brave  people,  and  went  their 
way.  Madame  de  Chatillon,  since  of  Mecklenburg, 
lodged  in  one  of  the  last  houses  near  the  Porte  St. 


64  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

Honore,  and  at  the  noise  made  by  the  coaches,  put 
her  head  to  the  window,  and  coolly  looked  at  the 
whole  of  the  combat.  It  soon  made  a  great  noise. 
My  father  was  complimented  everywhere.  M.  de 
Vardes  was  sent  for  ten  or  twelve  days  to  the  Bastille. 
My  father  and  he  afterwards  became  completely 
reconciled  to  each  other. 

The  other  adventure  was  of  gentler  ending.  The 
Memoirs  of  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld  appeared.  They 
contained  certain  atrocious  and  false  statements 
against  my  father,  who  so  severely  resented  the 
calumny,  that  he  seized  a  pen,  and  wrote  upon  the 
margin  of  the  book,  "  The  author  has  told  a  lie." 
Not  content  with  this,  he  went  to  the  bookseller,  whom 
he  discovered  with  some  difficulty,  for  the  book  was 
not  sold  publicly  at  first.  He  asked  to  see  all  the 
copies  of  the  work — prayed,  promised,  threatened, 
and  at  last  succeeded  in  obtaining  them.  Then  he  took 
a  pen  and  wrote  in  all  of  them  the  same  marginal 
note.  The  astonishment  of  the  bookseller  may  be 
imagined.  He  was  not  long  in  letting  M.  de  la  Roche- 
foucauld know  what  had  happened  to  his  books :  it 
may  well  be  believed  that  he  also  was  astonished. 
This  affair  made  great  noise.  My  father,  having 
truth  on  his  side,  wished  to  obtain  public  satisfaction 
from  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld.  Friends,  however, 
interposed,  and  the  matter  was  allowed  to  drop.  But 
M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld  never  pardoned  my  father;  so 
true  it  is  that  we  less  easily  forget  the  injuries  we 
inflict  than  those  that  we  receive. 

My  father  passed  the  rest  of  his  long  life  sur- 
rounded by  friends,  and  held  in  high  esteem  by  the 
King  and  his  ministers.  His  advice  was  often  sought 
for  by  them,  and  was  always  acted  upon.  He  never 
consoled  himself  for  the  loss  of  Louis  XIII.,  to  whom 
he  owed  his  advancement   and   his   fortune.     Every 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  65 

year  he  kept  sacred  the  day  of  his  death,  going  to 
Saint-Denis,  or  holding  solemnities  in  his  own  house 
if  at  Blaye.  Veneration,  gratitude,  tenderness,  ever 
adorned  his  lips  every  time  he  spoke  of  that 
monarch. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A  FTER  having  paid  the  last  duties  to  my  father 
/-\  I  betook  myself  to  Mons  to  join  the  Royal 
■*■  -^  Roussillon  cavalry  regiment,  in  which  I  was 
captain.  The  King,  after  stopping  eight  or  ten  days 
with  the  ladies  at  Quesnoy,  sent  them  to  Namur,  and 
put  himself  at  the  head  of  the  army  of  M.  de  Boufflers, 
and  camped  at  Gembloux,  so  that  his  left  was  only 
half  a  league  distant  from  the  right  of  M.  de  Luxem- 
bourg. The  Prince  of  Orange  was  encamped  at  the 
Abbey  of  Pure,  was  unable  to  receive  supplies,  and 
could  not  leave  his  position  without  having  the  two 
armies  of  the  King  to  grapple  with:  he  entrenched 
himself  in  haste,  and  bitterly  repented  having  allowed 
himself  to  be  thus  driven  into  a  corner.  We  knew 
afterwards  that  he  wrote  several  times  to  his  intimate 
friend  the  Prince  de  Vaudemont, — saying  that  he  was 
lost,  and  that  nothing  short  of  a  miracle  could  save 
him. 

We  were  in  this  position,  with  an  army  in  every 
way  infinitely  superior  to  that  of  the  Prince  of  Orange, 
and  with  four  whole  months  before  us  to  profit  by 
our  strength,  when  the  King  declared  on  the  8th  of 
June  that  he  should  return  to  Versailles,  and  sent  off 
a  large  detachment  of  the  army  into  Germany.  The 
surprise  of  the  Marechal  de  Luxembourg  was  without 
bounds.  He  represented  the  facih'ty  with  which  the 
Prince  of  Orange  might  now  be  beaten  with  one  army 
and  pursued  by  another;  and  how  important  it  was 
to  draw  off  detachments  of  the  Imperial  forces  from 
Germany  into  Flanders,  and  how,  by  sending  an  army 

66 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  67 

into  Flanders  instead  of  Germany,  the  whole  of  the 
Low  Countries  would  be  in  our  power.  But  the  King 
would  not  change  his  plans,  although  M.  de  Luxem- 
bourg went  down  on  his  knees  and  begged  him  not 
to  allow  such  a  glorious  opportunity  to  escape.  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon,  by  her  tears  when  she  parted 
from  his  Majesty,  and  by  her  letters  since,  had  brought 
about  this  resolution. 

The  news  had  not  spread  on  the  morrow,  June  9th. 
I  chanced  to  go  alone  to  the  quarters  of  M.  de  Luxem- 
bourg, and  was  surprised  to  find  not  a  soul  there; 
every  one  had  gone  to  the  King's  army.  Pensively 
bringing  my  horse  to  a  stand,  I  was  ruminating  on  a 
fact  so  strange,  and  debating  whether  I  should  return 
to  my  tent  or  push  on  to  the  royal  camp,  when  up 
came  M.  le  Prince  de  Conti  with  a  single  page  and  a 
groom  leading  a  horse.  "  What  are  you  doing  there?  " 
cried  he,  laughing  at  my  surprise.  Thereupon  he  told 
me  he  was  going  to  say  adieu  to  the  King,  and  advised 
me  to  do  likewise.  "  What  do  you  mean  by  saying 
Adieu?"  answered  I.  He  sent  his  servants  to  a  little 
distance,  and  begged  me  to  do  the  same,  and  with 
shouts  of  laughter  told  me  about  the  King's  retreat, 
making  tremendous  fun  of  him,  despite  my  youth,  for 
he  had  confidence  in  me.  I  was  astonished.  We  soon 
after  met  the  whole  company  coming  back;  and  the 
great  people  went  aside  to  talk  and  sneer.  I  then 
proceeded  to  pay  my  respects  to  the  King,  by  whom  I 
was  honourably  received.  Surprise,  however,  was  ex- 
pressed by  all  faces,  and  indignation  by  some. 

The  effect  of  the  King's  retreat,  indeed,  was  incredi- 
ble, even  amongst  the  soldiers  and  the  people.  The 
general  officers  could  not  keep  silent  upon  it,  and  the 
inferior  officers  spoke  loudly,  with  a  license  that  could 
not  be  restrained.  All  through  the  army,  in  the  towns, 
and  even  at  Court,  it  was  talked  about  openly.     The 

Vol.  11  Memoirs — C 


68  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

courtiers,  generally  so  glad  to  find  themselves  again 
at  Versailles,  now  declared  that  they  were  ashamed  to 
be  there;  as  for  the  enemy,  they  could  not  contain 
their  surprise  and  joy.  The  Prince  of  Orange  said  that 
the  retreat  was  a  miracle  he  could  not  have  hoped  for; 
that  he  could  scarcely  believe  in  it,  but  that  it  had 
saved  his  army,  and  the  whole  of  the  Low  Countries. 
In  the  midst  of  all  this  excitement  the  King  arrived 
with  the  ladies,  on  the  25th  of  June,  at  Versailles. 

We  gained  some  successes,  however,  this  year. 
Marechal  de  Villeroy  took  Huy  in  three  days,  losing 
only  a  sub-engineer  and  some  soldiers.  On  the  29th 
of  July  we  attacked  at  dawn  the  Prince  of  Orange  at 
Neerwinden,  and  after  twelve  hours  of  hard  fighting, 
under  a  blazing  sun,  entirely  routed  him.  I  was  of 
the  third  squadron  of  the  Royal  Roussillon,  and  made 
five  charges.  One  of  the  gold  ornaments  of  my  coat 
was  torn  away,  but  I  received  no  wound.  During  the 
battle  our  brigadier,  Quoadt,  was  killed  before  my 
eyes.  The  Due  de  Feuillade  became  thus  commander 
of  the  brigade.  We  missed  him  immediately,  and  for 
more  than  half  an  hour  saw  nothing  of  him;  he  had 
gone  to  make  his  toilette.  When  he  returned  he  was 
powdered  and  decked  out  in  a  fine  red  surtout,  em- 
broidered with  silver,  and  all  his  trappings  and  those 
of  his  horse  were  magnificent;  he  acquitted  himself 
with  distinction. 

Our  cavalry  stood  so  well  against  the  fire  from  the 
enemy's  guns,  that  the  Prince  of  Orange  lost  all  pa- 
tience, and  turning  away,  exclaimed — "  Oh,  the  inso- 
lent nation ! ';  He  fought  until  the  last,  and  retired 
with  the  Elector  of  Hanover  only  when  he  saw  there 
was  no  longer  any  hope.  After  the  battle  my  people 
brought  us  a  leg  of  mutton  and  a  bottle  of  wine,  which 
they  had  wisely  saved  from  the  previous  evening,  and 
we  attacked  them  in  good  earnest,  as  may  be  believed. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  69 

The  enemy  lost  about  twenty  thousand  men,  including 
a  large  number  of  officers;  our  loss  was  not  more  than 
half  that  number.  We  took  all  their  cannon,  eight 
mortars,  many  artillery  waggons,  a  quantity  of  stand- 
ards, and  some  pairs  of  kettle-drums.  The  victory  was 
complete. 

Meanwhile,  the  army  which  had  been  sent  to  Ger- 
many under  the  command  of  Monseigneur  and  of  the 
Marechal  de  Lorges,  did  little  or  nothing.  The  Mare- 
chal  wished  to  attack  Heilbronn,  but  Monseigneur  was 
opposed  to  it;  and,  to  the  great  regret  of  the  principal 
generals  and  of  the  troops,  the  attack  was  not  made. 
Monseigneur  returned  early  to  Versailles. 

At  sea  we  were  more  active.  The  rich  merchant 
fleet  of  Smyrna  was  attacked  by  Tourville;  fifty  ves- 
sels were  burnt  or  sunk,  and  twenty-seven  taken,  all 
richly  freighted.  This  campaign  cost  the  English  and 
Dutch  dear.  It  is  believed  their  loss  was  more  than 
thirty  millions  of  ecus. 

The  season  finished  with  the  taking  of  Charleroy. 
On  the  1 6th  of  September  the  Marechal  de  Villeroy, 
supported  by  M.  de  Luxembourg,  laid  siege  to  it,  and 
on  the  nth  of  October,  after  a  good  defence,  the  place 
capitulated.  Our  loss  was  very  slight.  Charleroy 
taken,  our  troops  went  into  winter-quarters,  and  I  re- 
turned to  Court,  like  the  rest.  The  roads  and  the  post- 
ing service  were  in  great  disorder.  Amongst  other 
adventures  I  met  with,  I  was  driven  by  a  deaf  and 
dumb  postilion,  who  stuck  me  fast  in  the  mud  when 
near  Quesnoy.  At  Pont  Saint-Maxence  all  the  horses 
were  retained  by  M.  de  Luxembourg.  Fearing  I 
might  be  left  behind,  I  told  the  postmaster  that  I  was 
a  governor  (which  was  true),  and  that  I  would  put 
him  in  jail  if  he  did  not  give  me  horses.  I  should  have 
been  sadly  puzzled  how  to  do  it;  but  he  was  simple 
enough  to  believe  me,  and  gave  the  horses.    I  arrived, 


70  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

however,  at  last  at  Paris,  and  found  a  change  at  the 
Court,  which  surprised  me. 

Daquin — first  doctor  of  the  King  and  creature  of 
Madame  de  Montespan — had  lost  nothing  of  his 
credit  by  her  removal,  but  had  never  been  able  to  get 
on  well  with  Madame  de  Maintenon,  who  looked  coldly 
upon  all  the  friends  of  her  predecessor.  Daquin  had 
a  son,  an  abbe,  and  wearied  the  King  with  solicitations 
on  his  behalf.  Madame  de  Maintenon  seized  the  op- 
portunity, when  the  King  was  more  than  usually  angry 
with  Daquin,  to  obtain  his  dismissal :  it  came  upon  him 
like  a  thunderbolt.  On  the  previous  evening  the  King 
had  spoken  to  him  for  a  long  time  as  usual,  and  had 
never  treated  him  better.  All  the  Court  was  astonished 
also.  Fagon,  a  very  skilful  and  learned  man,  was  ap- 
pointed in  his  place  at  the  instance  of  Madame  de 
Maintenon. 

Another  event  excited  less  surprise  than  interest. 
On  Sunday,  the  29th  of  November,  the  King  learned 
that  La  Vauguyon  had  killed  himself  in  his  bed,  that 
morning,  by  firing  twice  into  his  throat.  I  must  say 
a  few  words  about  this  Vauguyon.  He  was  one  of  the 
pettiest  and  poorest  gentlemen  of  France :  he  was  well- 
made,  but  very  swarthy,  with  Spanish  features,  had  a 
charming  voice,  played  the  guitar  and  lute  very  well, 
and  was  skilled  in  the  arts  of  gallantry.  By  these 
talents  he  had  succeeded  in  finding  favour  with 
Madame  de  Beauvais,  much  regarded  at  the  Court  as 
having  been  the  King's  first  mistress.  I  have  seen 
her — old,  blear-eyed,  and  half  blind, — at  the  toilette 
of  the  Dauphiness  of  Bavaria,  where  everybody 
courted  her,  because  she  was  still  much  considered  by 
the  King.  Under  this  protection  La  Vauguyon  suc- 
ceeded well;  was  several  times  sent  as  ambassador  to 
foreign  countries;  was  made  councillor  of  state,  and 
to  the  scandal  of  everybody,  was  raised  to  the  Order 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  71 

in  1688.  Of  late  years,  having  no  appointments,  he 
had  scarcely  the  means  of  living,  and  endeavoured,  but 
without  success,  to  improve  his  condition. 

Poverty  by  degrees  turned  his  brain;  but  a  long 
time  passed  before  it  was  perceived.  The  first  proof 
that  he  gave  of  it  was  at  the  house  of  Madame  Pelot, 
widow  of  the  Chief  President  of  the  Rouen  parlia- 
ment. Playing  at  brelan  one  evening,  she  offered  him 
a  stake,  and  because  he  would  not  accept  it  bantered 
him,  and  playfully  called  him  a  poltroon.  He  said 
nothing,  but  waited  until  all  the  rest  of  the  company 
had  left  the  room;  and  when  he  found  himself  alone 
with  Madame  Pelot,  he  bolted  the  door,  clapped  his  hat 
on  his  head,  drove  her  up  against  the  chimney,  and 
holding  her  head  between  his  two  fists,  said  he  knew  no 
reason  why  he  should  not  pound  it  into  a  jelly,  in  order 
to  teach  her  to  call  him  poltroon  again.  The  poor 
woman  was  horribly  frightened,  and  made  perpen- 
dicular curtseys  between  his  two  fists,  and  all  sorts 
of  excuses.  At  last  he  let  her  go,  more  dead  than 
alive.  She  had  the  generosity  to  say  no  syllable  of 
this  occurrence  until  after  his  death;  she  even  allowed 
him  to  come  to  the  house  as  usual,  but  took  care  never 
to  be  alone  with  him. 

One  day,  a  long  time  after  this,  meeting,  in  a  gal- 
lery, at  Fontainebleau,  M.  de  Courtenay,  La  Vauguyon 
drew  his  sword,  and  compelled  the  other  to  draw  also, 
although  there  had  never  been  the  slightest  quarrel 
between  them.  They  were  soon  separated  and  La 
Vauguyon  immediately  fled  to  the  King,  who  was  just 
then  in  his  private  closet,  where  nobody  ever  entered 
unless  expressly  summoned.  But  La  Vauguyon  turned 
the  key,  and,  in  spite  of  the  usher  on  guard,  forced 
his  way  in.  The  King  in  great  emotion  asked  him 
what  was  the  matter.  La  Vauguyon  on  his  knees  said 
he  had  been  insulted  by  M.  de  Courtenay  and  de- 


J2  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

manded  pardon  for  having  drawn  his  sword  in  the 
palace.  His  Majesty,  promising  to  examine  the  mat- 
ter, with  great  trouble  got  rid  of  La  Vauguyon.  As 
nothing  could  be  made  of  it,  M.  de  Courtenay  declar- 
ing he  had  been  insulted  by  La  Vauguyon  and  forced 
to  draw  his  sword,  and  the  other  telling  the  same  tale, 
both  were  sent  to  the  Bastille.  After  a  short  imprison- 
ment they  were  released,  and  appeared  at  the  Court 
as  usual. 

Another  adventure,  which  succeeded  this,  threw 
some  light  upon  the  state  of  affairs.  Going  to  Ver- 
sailles, one  day,  La  Vauguyon  met  a  groom  of  the 
Prince  de  Conde  leading  a  saddled  horse :  he  stopped 
the  man,  descended  from  his  coach,  asked  whom  the 
horse  belonged  to,  said  that  the  Prince  would  not  ob- 
ject to  his  riding  it,  and  leaping  upon  the  animal's 
back,  galloped  off.  The  groom,  all  amazed,  followed 
him.  La  Vauguyon  rode  on  until  he  reached  the  Bas- 
tille, descended  there,  gave  a  gratuity  to  the  man,  and 
dismissed  him:  he  then  went  straight  to  the  governor 
of  the  prison,  said  he  had  had  the  misfortune  to  dis- 
please the  King,  and  begged  to  be  confined  there.  The 
governor,  having  no  orders  to  do  so,  refused,  and  sent 
off  an  express  for  instructions  how  to  act.  In  reply 
he  was  told  not  to  receive  La  Vauguyon,  whom  at  last, 
after  great  difficulty,  he  prevailed  upon  to  go  away. 
This  occurrence  made  great  noise.  Yet  even  after- 
wards the  King  continued  to  receive  La  Vauguyon  at 
the  Court,  and  to  affect  to  treat  him  well,  although 
everybody  else  avoided  him  and  was  afraid  of  him. 
His  poor  wife  became  so  affected  by  these  public  de- 
rangements, that  she  retired  from  Paris,  and  shortly 
afterwards  died.  This  completed  her  husband's  mad- 
ness; he  survived  her  only  a  month,  dying  by  his  own 
hand,  as  I  have  mentioned.  During  the  last  two  years 
of  his  life  he  carried  pistols  in  his  carriage,  and  fre- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  73 

quently  pointed  them  at  his  coachman  and  postilion. 
It  is  certain  that  without  the  assistance  of  M.  de  Beau- 
vais  he  would  often  have  been  brought  to  the  last  ex- 
tremities. Beauvais  frequently  spoke  of  him  to  the 
King;  and  it  is  inconceivable  that  having  raised  this 
man  to  such  a  point,  and  having  always  shown  him 
particular  kindness,  his  Majesty  should  perseveringly 
have  left  him  to  die  of  hunger  and  become  mad  from 
misery. 

The  year  finished  without  any  remarkable  occur- 
rence. 

My  mother,  who  had  been  much  disquieted  for  me 
during  the  campaign,  desired  strongly  that  I  should 
not  make  another  without  being  married.  Although 
very  young,  I  had  no  repugnance  to  marry,  but  wished 
to  do  so  according  to  my  own  inclinations.  With  a 
large  establishment  I  felt  very  lonely  in  a  country 
where  credit  and  consideration  do  more  than  all  the 
rest.  Without  uncle,  aunt,  cousins-german,  or  near 
relatives,  I  found  myself,  I  say,  extremely  solitary. 

Among  my  best  friends,  as  he  had  been  the  friend 
of  my  father,  was  the  Due  de  Beauvilliers.  He  had 
always  shown  me  much  affection,  and  I  felt  a  great  de- 
sire to  unite  myself  to  his  family.  My  mother  ap- 
proved of  my  inclination,  and  gave  me  an  exact 
account  of  my  estates  and  possessions.  I  carried  it  to 
Versailles,  and  sought  a  private  interview  with  M. 
de  Beauvilliers.  At  eight  o'clock  the  same  evening  he 
received  me  alone  in  the  cabinet  of  Madame  de  Beau- 
villiers. After  making  my  compliments  to  him,  I  told 
him  my  wish,  showed  him  the  state  of  my  affairs,  and 
said  that  all  I  demanded  of  him  was  one  of  his  daugh- 
ters in  marriage,  and  that  whatever  contract  he  thought 
fit  to  draw  up  would  be  signed  by  my  mother  and  my- 
self without  examination. 

The  Duke,  who  had  fixed  his  eyes  upon  me  all  this 


74  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

time,  replied  like  a  man  penetrated  with  gratitude  by 
the  offer  I  had  made.  He  said,  that  of  his  eight 
daughters  the  eldest  was  between  fourteen  and  fifteen 
years  old;  the  second  much  deformed,  and  in  no  way 
marriageable;  the  third  between  twelve  and  thirteen 
years  of  age,  and  the  rest  were  children:  the  eldest 
wished  to  enter  a  convent,  and  had  shown  herself  firm 
upon  that  point.  He  seemed  inclined  to  make  a  diffi- 
culty of  his  want  of  fortune;  but,  reminding  him  of 
the  proposition  I  had  made,  I  said  that  it  was  not  for 
fortune  I  had  come  to  him,  not  even  for  his  daugh- 
ter, whom  I  had  never  seen;  that  it  was  he  and  Ma- 
dame de  Beauvilliers  who  had  charmed  me,  and  whom 
I  wished  to  marry ! 

"  But,"  said  he,  "if  my  eldest  daughter  wishes  ab- 
solutely to  enter  a  convent  ?  " 

"  Then,"  replied  I,  "  I  ask  the  third  of  you."  To 
this  he  objected,  on  the  ground  that  if  he  gave  the 
dowry  of  the  first  to  the  third  daughter,  and  the  first 
afterwards  changed  her  mind  and  wished  to  marry, 
he  should  be  thrown  into  an  embarrassment.  I  replied 
that  I  would  take  the  third  as  though  the  first  were  to 
be  married,  and  that  if  she  were  not,  the  difference  be- 
tween what  he  destined  for  her  and  what  he  destined 
for  the  third,  should  be  given  to  me.  The  Duke,  rais- 
ing his  eyes  to  heaven,  protested  that  he  had  never 
been  combated  in  this  manner,  and  that  he  was  obliged 
to  gather  up  all  his  forces  in  order  to  prevent  himself 
yielding  to  me  that  very  instant. 

On  the  next  day,  at  half -past  three,  I  had  another 
interview  with  M.  de  Beauvilliers.  With  much  ten- 
derness he  declined  my  proposal,  resting  his  refusal 
upon  the  inclination  his  daughter  had  displayed  for 
the  convent, — upon  his  little  wealth,  if,  the  marriage 
of  the  third  being  made,  she  should  change  her  mind — 
and  upon  other  reasons.     He  spoke  to  me  with  much 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  75 

regret  and  friendship,  and  I  to  him  in  the  same  man- 
ner; and  we  separated,  unable  any  longer  to  speak 
to  each  other.  Two  days  after,  however,  I  had  an- 
other interview  with  him  by  his  appointment.  I  en- 
deavoured to  overcome  the  objections  that  he  made, 
but  all  in  vain.  He  could  not  give  me  his  third  daugh- 
ter with  the  first  unmarried,  and  he  would  not  force 
her,  he  said,  to  change  her  wish  of  retiring  from  the 
world.  His  words,  pious  and  elevated,  augmented  my 
respect  for  him,  and  my  desire  for  the  marriage.  In 
the  evening,  at  the  breaking  up  of  the  appointment,  I 
could  not  prevent  myself  whispering  in  his  ear  that 
I  should  never  live  happily  with  anybody  but  his 
daughter,  and  without  waiting  for  a  reply  hastened 
away.  I  had  the  next  evening,  at  eight  o'clock,  an 
interview  with  Madame  de  Beauvilliers.  I  argued 
with  her  with  such  prodigious  ardour  that  she  was 
surprised,  and,  although  she  did  not  give  way,  she 
said  she  would  be  inconsolable  for  the  loss  of  me,  re- 
peating the  same  tender  and  flattering  things  her  hus- 
band had  said  before,  and  with  the  same  effusion  of 
feeling. 

I  had  yet  another  interview  with  M.  de  Beauvilliers. 
He  showed  even  more  affection  for  me  than  before, 
but  I  could  not  succeed  in  putting  aside  his  scruples. 
He  unbosomed  himself  afterwards  to  one  of  our 
friends,  and  in  his  bitterness  said  he  could  only  con- 
sole himself  by  hoping  that  his  children  and  mine 
might  some  day  intermarry,  and  he  prayed  me  to  go 
and  pass  some  days  at  Paris,  in  order  to  allow  him 
to  seek  a  truce  to  his  grief  in  my  absence.  We  both 
were  in  want  of  it.  I  have  judged  it  fitting  to  give 
these  details,  for  they  afford  a  key  to  my  exceeding 
intimacy  with  M.  de  Beauvilliers,  which  otherwise, 
considering  the  difference  in  our  ages,  might  appear 
incomprehensible. 


76  DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON 

There  was  nothing  left  for  me  but  to  look  out  for 
another  marriage.  One  soon  presented  itself,  but  as 
soon  fell  to  the  ground;  and  I  went  to  La  Trappe  to 
console  myself  for  the  impossibility  of  making  an  alli- 
ance with  the  Due  de  Beauvilliers. 

La  Trappe  is  a  place  so  celebrated  and  so  well 
known,  and  its  reformer  so  famous,  that  I  shall  say 
but  little  about  it.  I  will,  however,  mention  that  this 
abbey  is  five  leagues  from  La  Ferte-au-Vidame,  or 
Arnault,  which  is  the  real  distinctive  name  of  this 
Ferte  among  so  many  other  Fertes  in  France,  which 
have  preserved  the  generic  name  of  what  they  have 
been,  that  is  to  say,  forts  or  fortresses  {Urmitas).  My 
father  had  been  very  intimate  with  M.  de  la  Trappe, 
and  had  taken  me  to  him. 

Although  I  was  very  young  then,  M.  de  la  Trappe 
charmed  me,  and  the  sanctity  of  the  place  enchanted 
me.  Every  year  I  stayed  some  days  there,  sometimes 
a  week  at  a  time,  and  was  never  tired  of  admiring  this 
great  and  distinguished  man.  He  loved  me  as  a  son, 
and  I  respected  him  as  though  he  were  my  father. 
This  intimacy,  singular  at  my  age,  I  kept  secret  from 
everybody,  and  only  went  to  the  convent  clandestinely. 


CHAPTER  V 

ON  my  return  from  La  Trappe,  I  became  en- 
gaged in  an  affair  which  made  a  great  noise, 
and  which  had  many  results  for  me. 

M.  de  Luxembourg,  proud  of  his  successes,  and  of 
the  applause  of  the  world  at  his  victories,  believed 
himself  sufficiently  strong  to  claim  precedence  over 
seventeen  dukes,  myself  among  the  number;  to  step,  in 
fact,  from  the  eighteenth  rank,  that  he  held  amongst 
the  peers,  to  the  second.  The  following  are  the  names 
and  the  order  in  precedence  of  the  dukes  he  wished  to 
supersede : — 

The  Due  d'Elbceuf;  the  Due  de  Montbazon;  the 
Due  de  Ventadour;  the  Due  de  Vendome;  the  Due  de 
la  Tremoille;  the  Due  de  Sully;  the  Due  de  Chev- 
reuse,  the  son  (minor)  of  the  Duchesse  de  Lesdi- 
guieres-Gondi ;  the  Due  de  Brissac;  Charles  d' Albert, 
called  d'Ailly;  the  Due  de  Richelieu;  the  Due  de 
Saint-Simon;  the  Due  de  la  Rochefoucauld;  the  Due 
de  la  Force;  the  Due  de  Valentinois;  the  Due  de 
Rohan;  the  Due  de  Bouillon. 

To  explain  this  pretension  of  M.  de  Luxembourg, 
I  must  give  some  details  respecting  him  and  the  family 
whose  name  he  bore.  He  was  the  only  son  of  M.  de 
Bouteville,  and  had  married  a  descendant  of  Frangois 
de  Luxembourg,  Duke  of  Piney,  created  Peer  of 
France  in  158 1.  It  was  a  peerage  which,  in  default  of 
male  successors,  went  to  the  female,  but  this  descend- 
ant was  not  heir  to  it.  She  was  the  child  of  a  second 
marriage,  and  by  a  first  marriage  her  mother  had 
given  birth  to  a  son  and  a  daughter,  who  were  the 


78  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

inheritors  of  the  peerage,  both  of  whom  were  still 
living.  The  son  was,  however,  an  idiot,  had  been  de- 
clared incapable  of  attending  to  his  affairs,  and  was 
shut  up  in  Saint  Lazare,  at  Paris.  The  daughter  had 
taken  the  veil,  and  was  mistress  of  the  novices  at  the 
Abbaye-aux-Bois.  The  peerage  had  thus,  it  might 
almost  be  said,  become  extinct,  for  it  was  vested  in  an 
idiot,  who  could  not  marry  (to  prevent  him  doing  so, 
he  had  been  made  a  deacon,  and  he  was  bound  in  con- 
sequence to  remain  single),  and  in  a  nun,  who  was 
equally  bound  by  her  vows  to  the  same  state  of 
celibacy. 

When  M.  de  Bouteville,  for  that  was  his  only  title 
then,  married,  he  took  the  arms  and  the  name  of  Lux- 
embourg. He  did  more.  By  powerful  influence — 
notably  that  of  his  patron  the  Prince  de  Conde — he 
released  the  idiot  deacon  from  his  asylum,  and  the  nun 
from  her  convent,  and  induced  them  both  to  surrender 
to  him  their  possessions  and  their  titles.  This  done, 
he  commenced  proceedings  at  once  in  order  to  obtain 
legal  recognition  of  his  right  to  the  dignities  he  had 
thus  got  possession  of.  He  claimed  to  be  acknowl- 
edged Due  de  Piney,  with  all  the  privileges  attached 
to  that  title  as  a  creation  of  1581.  Foremost  among 
these  privileges  was  that  of  taking  precedence  of  all 
dukes  whose  title  did  not  go  back  so  far  as  that  year. 
Before  any  decision  was  given  either  for  or  against 
this  claim,  he  was  made  Due  de  Piney  by  new  letters 
patent,  dating  from  1662,  with  a  clause  which  left  his 
pretensions  to  the  title  of  1581  by  no  means  affected 
by  this  new  creation.  M.  de  Luxembourg,  however, 
seemed  satisfied  with  what  he  had  obtained,  and  was 
apparently  disposed  to  pursue  his  claim  no  further. 
He  was  received  as  Duke  and  Peer  in  the  Parliament, 
took  his  seat  in  the  last  rank  after  all  the  other  peers, 
and  allowed  his  suit  to  drop.    Since  then  he  had  tried 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  79 

unsuccessfully  to  gain  it  by  stealth,  but  for  several 
years  nothing  more  had  been  heard  of  it.  Now,  how- 
ever, he  recommenced  it,  and  with  every  intention, 
as  we  soon  found,  to  stop  at  no  intrigue  or  baseness 
in  order  to  carry  his  point. 

Nearly  everybody  was  in  his  favour.  The  Court, 
though  not  the  King,  was  almost  entirely  for  him;  and 
the  town,  dazzled  by  the  splendour  of  his  exploits,  was 
devoted  to  him.  The  young  men  regarded  him  as  the 
protector  of  their  debauches;  for,  notwithstanding  his 
age,  his  conduct  was  as  free  as  theirs.  He  had  capti- 
vated the  troops  and  the  general  officers. 

In  the  Parliament  he  had  a  staunch  supporter  in 
Harlay,  the  Chief  President,  who  led  that  great  body 
at  his  will,  and  whose  devotion  he  had  acquired  to 
such  a  degree,  that  he  believed  that  to  undertake 
and  succeed  were  only  the  same  things,  and  that 
this  grand  affair  would  scarcely  cost  him  a  winter  to 
carry. 

Let  me  say  something  more  of  this  Harlay. 

Descended  from  two  celebrated  magistrates,  Achille 
d'Harlay  and  Christopher  De  Thou,  Harlay  imitated 
their  gravity,  but  carried  it  to  a  cynical  extent,  af- 
fected their  disinterestedness  and  modesty,  but  dis- 
honoured the  first  by  his  conduct,  and  the  second  by 
a  refined  pride  which  he  endeavoured  without  success 
to  conceal.  He  piqued  himself,  above  all  things,  upon 
his  probity  and  justice,  but  the  mask  soon  fell.  Be- 
tween Peter  and  Paul  he  maintained  the  strictest  fair- 
ness, but  as  soon  as  he  perceived  interest  or  favour  to 
be  acquired,  he  sold  himself.  This  trial  will  show  him 
stripped  of  all  disguise.  He  was  learned  in  the  law;  in 
letters  he  was  second  to  no  one;  he  was  well  acquainted 
with  history,  and  knew  how,  above  all,  to  govern  his 
company  with  an  authority  which  suffered  no  reply, 
and  which  no  other  chief  president  had  ever  attained. 


8o  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

A  pharisaical  austerity  rendered  him  redoubtable  by 
the  license  he  assumed  in  his  public  reprimands, 
whether  to  plaintiffs,  or  defendants,  advocates  or  mag- 
istrates; so  that  there  was  not  a  single  person  who  did 
not  tremble  to  have  to  do  with  him.  Besides  this,  sus- 
tained in  all  by  the  Court  (of  which  he  was  the  slave, 
and  the  very  humble  servant  of  those  who  were  really 
in  favour),  a  subtle  courtier,  a  singularly  crafty  poli- 
tician, he  used  all  those  talents  solely  to  further  his 
ambition,  his  desire  of  domination  and  his  thirst  of 
the  reputation  of  a  great  man.  He  was  without  real 
honour,  secretly  of  corrupt  manners,  with  only  outside 
probity,  without  humanity  even;  in  one  word,  a  per- 
fect hypocrite;  without  faith,  without  law,  without  a 
God,  and  without  a  soul ;  a  cruel  husband,  a  barbarous 
father,  a  tyrannical  brother,  a  friend  of  himself  alone, 
wicked  by  nature — taking  pleasure  in  insulting,  out- 
raging, and  overwhelming  others,  and  never  in  his  life 
having  lost  an  occasion  to  do  so.  His  wit  was  great, 
but  was  always  subservient  to  his  wickedness.  He  was 
small,  vigorous,  and  thin,  with  a  lozenge-shaped  face, 
a  long  aquiline  nose — fine,  speaking,  keen  eyes,  that 
usually  looked  furtively  at  you,  but  which,  if  fixed  on 
a  client  or  a  magistrate,  were  fit  to  make  him  sink  into 
the  earth.  He  wore  narrow  robes,  an  almost  ecclesi- 
astical collar  and  wristband  to  match,  a  brown  wig 
mixed  with  white,  thickly  furnished  but  short,  and 
with  a  great  cap  over  it.  He  affected  a  bending  atti- 
tude, and  walked  so,  with  a  false  air,  more  humble 
than  modest,  and  always  shaved  along  the  walls,  to 
make  people  make  way  for  him  with  greater  noise; 
and  at  Versailles  worked  his  way  on  by  a  series  of 
respectful  and,  as  it  were,  shame-faced  bows  to  the 
right  and  left.  He  held  to  the  King  and  to  Madame 
de  Maintenon  by  knowing  their  weak  side ;  and  it  was 
he  who,  being  consulted  upon  the  unheard-of  legitima- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  81 

tion  of  children  without  naming  the  mother,  had 
sanctioned  that  illegality  in  favour  of  the  King. 

Such  was  the  man  whose  influence  was  given  en- 
tirely to  our  opponent. 

To  assist  M.  de  Luxembourg's  case  as  much  as  pos- 
sible, the  celebrated  Racine,  so  known  by  his  plays, 
and  by  the  order  he  had  received  at  that  time  to  write 
the  history  of  the  King,  was  employed  to  polish  and 
ornament  his  pleas.  Nothing  was  left  undone  by  M. 
de  Luxembourg  in  order  to  gain  this  cause. 

I  cannot  give  all  the  details  of  the  case,  the  state- 
ments made  on  both  sides,  and  the  defences;  they 
would  occupy  entire  volumes.  We  maintained  that 
M.  de  Luxembourg  was  in  no  way  entitled  to  the 
precedence  he  claimed,  and  we  had  both  law  and  jus- 
tice on  our  side.  To  give  instructions  to  our  counsel, 
and  to  follow  the  progress  of  the  case,  we  met  once 
a  week,  seven  or  eight  of  us  at  least,  those  best  dis- 
posed to  give  our  time  to  the  matter.  Among  the 
most  punctual  was  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld.  I  had 
been  solicited  from  the  commencement  to  take  part 
in  the  proceedings,  and  I  complied  most  willingly, 
apologising  for  so  doing  to  M.  de  Luxembourg,  who 
replied  with  all  the  politeness  and  gallantry  possible, 
that  I  could  not  do  less  than  follow  an  example  my 
father  had  set  me. 

The  trial  having  commenced,  we  soon  saw  how 
badly  disposed  the  Chief  President  was  towards  us. 
He  obstructed  us  in  every  way,  and  acted  against  all 
rules.  There  seemed  no  other  means  of  defeating  his 
evident  intention  of  judging  against  us  than  by  gain- 
ing time,  first  of  all;  and  to  do  this  we  determined  to 
get  the  case  adjourned.  There  were,  however,  only 
two  days  at  our  disposal,  and  that  was  not  enough  in 
order  to  comply  with  the  forms  required  for  such  a 
step.     We  were  all  in  the  greatest  embarrassment, 


82  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

when  it  fortunately  came  into  the  head  of  one  of  our 
lawyers  to  remind  us  of  a  privilege  we  possessed,  by 
which,  without  much  difficulty,  we  could  obtain  what 
we  required.  I  was  the  only  one  who  could,  at  that 
moment,  make  use  of  this  privilege.  I  hastened  home, 
at  once,  to  obtain  the  necessary  papers,  deposited  them 
with  the  procureur  of  M.  de  Luxembourg,  and  the 
adjournment  was  obtained.  The  rage  of  M.  de  Lux- 
embourg was  without  bounds.  When  we  met  he 
would  not  salute  me,  and  in  consequence  I  discon- 
tinued to  salute  him;  by  which  he  lost  more  than  I, 
in  his  position  and  at  his  age,  and  furnished  in  the 
rooms  and  the  galleries  of  Versailles  a  sufficiently 
ridiculous  spectacle.  In  addition  to  this  he  quarrelled 
openly  with  M.  de  Richelieu,  and  made  a  bitter  attack 
upon  him  in  one  of  his  pleas.  But  M.  de  Richelieu, 
meeting  him  soon  after  in  the  Salle  des  Gardes  at  Ver- 
sailles, told  him  to  his  face  that  he  should  soon  have 
a  reply;  and  said  that  he  feared  him  neither  on  horse- 
back nor  on  foot — neither  him  nor  his  crew> — neither 
in  town  nor  at  the  Court,  nor  even  in  the  army,  nor 
in  any  place  in  the  world;  and  without  allowing  time 
for  a  reply  he  turned  on  his  heel.  In  the  end,  M.  de 
Luxembourg  found  himself  so  closely  pressed  that  he 
was  glad  to  apologise  to  M.  de  Richelieu. 

After  a  time  our  cause,  sent  back  again  to  the  Par- 
liament, was  argued  there  with  the  same  vigour,  the 
same  partiality,  and  the  same  injustice  as  before :  see- 
ing this,  we  felt  that  the  only  course  left  open  to  us 
was  to  get  the  case  sent  before  the  Assembly  of  all 
the  Chambers,  where  the  Judges,  from  their  number, 
could  not  be  corrupted  by  M.  de  Luxembourg,  and 
where  the  authority  of  Harlay  was  feeble,  while  over 
the  Grand  Chambre,  in  which  the  case  was  at  present, 
it  was  absolute.  The  difficulty  was  to  obtain  an  as- 
sembly of  all  the  Chambers,  for  the  power  of  sum- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  83 

moning  them  was  vested  solely  in  Harlay.  However, 
we  determined  to  try  and  gain  his  consent.  M.  de 
Chaulnes  undertook  to  go  upon  this  delicate  errand, 
and  acquitted  himself  well  of  his  mission.  He  pointed 
out  to  Harlay  that  everybody  was  convinced  of  his 
leaning  towards  M.  de  Luxembourg,  and  that  the  only 
way  to  efface  the  conviction  that  had  gone  abroad  was 
to  comply  with  our  request;  in  fine,  he  used  so  many 
arguments,  and  with  such  address,  that  Harlay,  con- 
fused and  thrown  off  his  guard,  and  repenting  of  the 
manner  in  which  he  had  acted  towards  us  as  being 
likely  to  injure  his  interests,  gave  a  positive  assurance 
to  M.  de  Chaulnes  that  what  we  asked  should  be 
granted. 

We  had  scarcely  finished  congratulating  ourselves 
upon  this  unhoped-for  success,  when  we  found  that  we 
had  to  do  with  a  man  whose  word  was  a  very  sorry 
support  to  rest  upon.  M.  de  Luxembourg,  affrighted 
at  the  promise  Harlay  had  given,  made  him  resolve 
to  break  it.  Suspecting  this,  M.  de  Chaulnes  paid 
another  visit  to  the  Chief  President,  who  admitted, 
with  much  confusion,  that  he  had  changed  his  views, 
and  that  it  was  impossible  to  carry  out  what  he  had 
agreed  to.  After  this  we  felt  that  to  treat  any  longer 
with  a  man  so  perfidious  would  be  time  lost;  and  we 
determined,  therefore,  to  put  it  out  of  his  power  to 
judge  the  case  at  all. 

According  to  the  received  maxim,  whoever  is  at  law 
with  the  son  cannot  be  judged  by  the  father.  Harlay 
had  a  son  who  was  Advocate-General.  We  resolved 
that  one  among  us  should  bring  an  action  against 
him. 

After  trying  in  vain  to  induce  the  Due  de  Rohan, 
who  was  the  only  one  of  our  number  who  could  read- 
ily have  done  it,  to  commence  a  suit  against  Harlay's 
son,  we  began  to  despair  of  arriving  at  our  aim.    For- 


84  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

tunately  for  us,  the  vexation  of  Harlay  became  so  great 
at  this  time,  in  consequence  of  the  disdain  with  which 
we  treated  him,  and  which  we  openly  published,  that 
he  extricated  us  himself  from  our  difficulty.  We  had 
only  to  supplicate  the  Due  de  Gesvres  in  the  cause  (he 
said  to  some  of  our  people),  and  we  should  obtain 
what  we  wanted;  for  the  Due  de  Gesvres  was  his  rela- 
tive. We  took  him  at  his  word.  The  Due  de  Gesvres 
received  in  two  days  a  summons  on  our  part.  Harlay, 
annoyed  with  himself  for  the  advice  he  had  given, 
repented  of  it :  but  it  was  too  late ;  he  was  declared 
unable  to  judge  the  cause,  and  the  case  itself  was  post- 
poned until  the  next  year. 

Meanwhile,  let  me  mention  a  circumstance  which 
should  have  found  a  place  before,  and  then  state  what 
occurred  in  the  interval  which  followed  until  the  trial 
recommenced. 

It  was  while  our  proceedings  were  making  some 
little  stir  that  fresh  favours  were  heaped  upon  the 
King's  illegitimate  sons,  at  the  instance  of  the  King 
himself,  and  with  the  connivance  of  Harlay,  who,  for 
the  part  he  took  in  the  affair,  was  promised  the  chan- 
cellorship when  it  should  become  vacant.  The  rank 
of  these  illegitimate  sons  was  placed  just  below  that 
of  the  princes  of  the  blood,  and  just  above  that  of  the 
peers  even  of  the  oldest  creation.  This  gave  us  all 
exceeding  annoyance:  it  was  the  greatest  injury  the 
peerage  could  have  received,  and  became  its  leprosy 
and  sore.  All  the  peers  who  could,  kept  themselves 
aloof  from  the  parliament,  when  M.  du  Maine,  M.  de 
Vendome,  and  the  Comte  de  Toulouse,  for  whom  this 
arrangement  was  specially  made,  were  received  there. 

There  were  several  marriages  at  the  Court  this  win- 
ter and  many  very  fine  balls,  at  which  latter  I  danced. 
By  the  spring,  preparations  were  ready  for  fresh  cam- 
paigns.    My  regiment  (I  had  bought  one  at  the  close 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  85 

of  the  last  season)  was  ordered  to  join  the  army  of 
M.  de  Luxembourg;  but,  as  I  had  no  desire  to  be 
under  him,  I  wrote  to  the  King,  begging  to  be  ex- 
changed. In  a  short  time,  to  the  great  vexation,  as  I 
know,  of  M.  de  Luxembourg,  my  request  was  granted. 
The  Chevalier  de  Sully  went  to  Flanders  in  my  place, 
and  I  to  Germany  in  his.  I  went  first  to  Soissons  to 
see  my  regiment,  and  in  consequence  of  the  recom- 
mendation of  the  King,  was  more  severe  with  it  than 
I  should  otherwise  have  been.  I  set  out  afterwards 
for  Strasbourg,  where  I  was  surprised  with  the  mag- 
nificence of  the  town,  and  with  the  number,  beauty, 
and  grandeur  of  its  fortifications.  As  from  my  youth 
I  knew  and  spoke  German  perfectly,  I  sought  out  one 
of  my  early  German  acquaintances,  who  gave  me  much 
pleasure.  I  stopped  six  days  at  Strasbourg  and  then 
went  by  the  Rhine  to  Philipsburg.  On  the  next  day 
after  arriving  there,  I  joined  the  cavalry,  which  was 
encamped  at  Obersheim. 

After  several  movements — in  which  we  passed  and 
repassed  the  Rhine — but  which  led  to  no  effective  re- 
sult, we  encamped  for  forty  days  at  Gaw-Boecklheim, 
one  of  the  best  and  most  beautiful  positions  in  the 
world,  and  where  we  had  charming  weather,  although 
a  little  disposed  to  cold.  It  was  in  the  leisure  of  that 
long  camp  that  I  commenced  these  memoirs,  incited  by 
the  pleasure  I  took  in  reading  those  of  Marshal  Bas- 
sompierre,  which  invited  me  thus  to  write  what  I 
should  see  in  my  own  time. 

During  this  season  M.  de  Noailles  took  Palamos, 
Girone,  and  the  fortress  of  Castel-Follit  in  Catalonia. 
This  last  was  taken  by  the  daring  of  a  soldier,  who 
led  on  a  small  number  of  his  comrades,  and  carried  the 
place  by  assault.  Nothing  was  done  in  Italy;  and  in 
Flanders  M.  de  Luxembourg  came  to  no  engagement 
with  the  Prince  of  Orange. 


CHAPTER  VI 

AFTER  our  long  rest  at  the  camp  of  Gaw- 
Boecklheim  we  again  put  ourselves  in  move- 
L  ment,  but  without  doing  much  against  the 
enemy,  and  on  the  16th  of  October  I  received  per- 
mission to  return  to  Paris.  Upon  my  arrival  there  I 
learnt  that  many  things  had  occurred  since  I  left. 
During  that  time  some  adventures  had  happened  to  the 
Princesses,  as  the  three  illegitimate  daughters  of  the 
King  were  called  for  distinction  sake.  Monsieur 
wished  that  the  Duchesse  de  Chartres  should  always 
call  the  others  "sister,"  but  that  the  others  should 
never  address  her  except  as  "  Madame."  The  Prin- 
cesse  de  Conti  submitted  to  this;  but  the  other  (Ma- 
dame la  Duchesse,  being  the  produce  of  the  same 
love)  set  herself  to  call  the  Duchesse  de  Chartres 
"  mignonne."  But  nothing  was  less  mignonne  than 
her  face  and  her  figure;  and  Monsieur,  feeling  the 
ridicule,  complained  to  the  King.  The  King  prohib- 
ited very  severely  this  familiarity. 

While  at  Trianon  these  Princesses  took  it  into  their 
heads  to  walk  out  at  night  and  divert  themselves  with 
crackers.  Either  from  malice  or  imprudence  they  let 
off  some  one  night  under  the  windows  of  Monsieur, 
rousing  him  thereby  out  of  his  sleep.  He  was  so  dis- 
pleased, that  he  complained  to  the  King,  who  made 
him  many  excuses  (scolding  the  Princesses),  but  had 
great  trouble  to  appease  him.  His  anger  lasted  a  long 
time,  and  the  Duchesse  de  Chartres  felt  it.  I  do  not 
know  if  the  other  two  were  very  sorry.     Madame  la 

86 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  87 

Duchesse  was  accused  of  writing  some  songs  upon  the 
Duchesse  de  Chartres. 

The  Princesse  de  Conti  had  another  adventure, 
which  made  considerable  noise,  and  which  had  great 
results.  She  had  taken  into  her  favour  Clermont,  en- 
sign of  the  gensdarmes  and  of  the  Guard.  He  had 
pretended  to  be  enamoured  of  her,  and  had  not  been 
repelled,  for  she  soon  became  in  love  with  him.  Cler- 
mont had  attached  himself  to  the  service  of  M.  de  Lux- 
embourg, and  was  the  merest  creature  in  his  hands.  At 
the  instigation  of  M.  de  Luxembourg,  he  turned  away 
his  regards  from  the  Princesse  de  Conti,  and  fixed 
them  upon  one  of  her  maids  of  honour — Mademoi- 
selle Choin,  a  great,  ugly,  brown,  thick-set  girl,  upon 
whom  Monseigneur  had  lately  bestowed  his  affection. 
Monseigneur  made  no  secret  of  this,  nor  did  she. 
Such  being  the  case,  it  occurred  to  M.  de  Luxembourg 
(who  knew  he  was  no  favourite  with  the  King,  and 
who  built  all  his  hopes  of  the  future  upon  Monsei- 
gneur) that  Clermont,  by  marrying  La  Choin,  might 
thus  secure  the  favour  of  Monseigneur,  whose  entire 
confidence  she  possessed.  Clermont  was  easily  per- 
suaded that  this  would  be  for  him  a  royal  road  to 
fortune,  and  he  accordingly  entered  willingly  into 
the  scheme,  which  had  just  begun  to  move,  when  the 
campaign  commenced,  and  everybody  went  away  to 
join  the  armies. 

The  King,  who  partly  saw  this  intrigue,  soon  made 
himself  entirely  master  of  it,  by  intercepting  the  letters 
which  passed  between  the  various  parties.  He  read 
there  the  project  of  Clermont  and  La  Choin  to  marry, 
and  thus  govern  Monseigneur;  he  saw  how  M.  de 
Luxembourg  was  the  soul  of  this  scheme,  and  the 
marvels  to  himself  he  expected  from  it.  The  letters 
Clermont  had  received  from  the  Princesse  de  Conti  he 
now  sent  to  Mademoiselle  la  Choin,  and  always  spoke 


88  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

to  her  of  Monseigneur  as  their  "  fat  friend."  With 
this  correspondence  in  his  hands,  the  King  one  day- 
sent  for  the  Princesse  de  Conti,  said  in  a  severe  tone 
that  he  knew  of  her  weakness  for  Clermont;  and,  to 
prove  to  her  how  badly  she  had  placed  her  affection, 
showed  her  her  own  letters  to  Clermont,  and  letters  in 
which  he  had  spoken  most  contemptuously  of  her  to 
La  Choin.  Then,  as  a  cruel  punishment,  he  made  her 
read  aloud  to  him  the  whole  of  those  letters.  At  this 
she  almost  died,  and  threw  herself,  bathed  in  tears,  at 
the  feet  of  the  King,  scarcely  able  to  articulate.  Then 
came  sobs,  entreaty,  despair,  and  rage,  and  cries 
for  justice  and  revenge.  This  was  soon  obtained. 
Mademoiselle  la  Choin  was  driven  away  the  next  day; 
and  M.  de  Luxembourg  had  orders  to  strip  Clermont 
of  his  office,  and  send  him  to  the  most  distant  part  of 
the  kingdom.  The  terror  of  M.  de  Luxembourg  and 
the  Prince  de  Conti  at  this  discovery  may  be  imagined. 
Songs  increased  the  notoriety  of  this  strange  adven- 
ture between  the  Princess  and  her  confidant. 

M.  de  Noyon  had  furnished  on  my  return  another 
subject  for  the  song-writers,  and  felt  it  the  more  sensi- 
bly because  everybody  was  diverted  at  his  expense. 
M.  de  Noyon  was  extremely  vain,  and  afforded 
thereby  much  amusement  to  the  King.  A  chair  was 
vacant  at  the  Academie  Franchise.  The  King  wished 
it  to  be  given  to  M.  de  Noyon,  and  expressed  himself 
to  that  effect  to  Dangeau,  who  was  a  member.  As  may 
be  believed,  the  prelate  was  elected  without  difficulty. 
His  Majesty  testified  to  the  Prince  de  Conde,  and  to 
the  most  distinguished  persons  of  the  Court,  that  he 
should  be  glad  to  see  them  at  the  reception.  Thus 
M.  de  Noyon  was  the  first  member  of  the  Academie 
chosen  by  the  King,  and  the  first  at  whose  reception 
he  had  taken  the  trouble  to  invite  his  courtiers  to 
attend. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  89 

The  Abbe  de  Caumartin  was  at  that  time  Director 
of  the  Academic  He  knew  the  vanity  of  M.  de 
Noyon,  and  determined  to  divert  the  public  at  his 
expense.  He  had  many  friends  in  power,  and  judged 
that  his  pleasantry  would  be  overlooked,  and  even  ap- 
proved. He  composed,  therefore,  a  confused  and 
bombastic  discourse  in  the  style  of  M.  de  Noyon,  full 
of  pompous  phrases,  turning  the  prelate  into  ridicule, 
while  they  seemed  to  praise  him.  After  finishing  this 
work,  he  was  afraid  lest  it  should  be  thought  out  of 
all  measure,  and,  to  reassure  himself,  carried  it  to  M. 
de  Noyon  himself,  as  a  scholar  might  to  his  master, 
in  order  to  see  whether  it  fully  met  with  his  approval. 
M.  de  Noyon,  so  far  from  suspecting  anything,  was 
charmed  by  the  discourse,  and  simply  made  a  few  cor- 
rections in  the  style.  The  Abbe  de  Caumartin  re- 
joiced at  the  success  of  the  snare  he  had  laid,  and  felt 
quite  bold  enough  to  deliver  his  harangue. 

The  day  came.  The  Academie  was  crowded.  The 
King  and  the  Court  were  there,  all  expecting  to  be 
diverted.  M.  de  Noyon,  saluting  everybody  with  a 
satisfaction  he  did  not  dissimulate,  made  his  speech 
with  his  usual  confidence,  and  in  his  usual  style.  The 
Abbe  replied  with  a  modest  air,  and  with  a  gravity 
and  slowness  that  gave  great  effect  to  his  ridiculous 
discourse.  The  surprise  and  pleasure  were  general, 
and  each  person  strove  to  intoxicate  M.  de  Noyon 
more  and  more,  making  him  believe  that  the  speech  of 
the  Abbe  was  relished  solely  because  it  had  so  worth- 
ily praised  him.  The  prelate  was  delighted  with  the 
Abbe  and  the  public,  and  conceived  not  the  slightest 
mistrust. 

The  noise  which  this  occurrence  made  may  be  im- 
agined, and  the  praises  M.  de  Noyon  gave  himself  in 
relating  everywhere  what  he  had  said,  and  what  had 
been  replied  to  him.     M.  de  Paris,  to  whose  house  he 


90  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

went,  thus  triumphing,  did  not  like  him,  and  endeav- 
oured to  open  his  eyes  to  the  humiliation  he  had  re- 
ceived. For  some  time  M.  de  Noyon  would  not  be 
convinced  of  the  truth;  it  was  not  until  he  had  con- 
sulted with  Pere  la  Chaise  that  he  believed  it.  The 
excess  of  rage  and  vexation  succeeded  then  to  the  ex- 
cess of  rapture  he  had  felt.  In  this  state  he  returned 
to  his  house,  and  went  the  next  day  to  Versailles. 
There  he  made  the  most  bitter  complaints  to  the  King, 
of  the  Abbe  de  Caumartin,  by  whose  means  he  had 
become  the  sport  and  laughing-stock  of  all  the  world. 

The  King,  who  had  learned  what  had  passed,  was 
himself  displeased.  He  ordered  Pontchartrain  (who 
was  related  to  Caumartin)  to  rebuke  the  Abbe,  and  to 
send  him  a  lettre  de  cachet,  in  order  that  he  might  go 
and  ripen  his  brain  in  his  Abbey  of  Busay,  in  Brittany, 
and  better  learn  there  how  to  speak  and  write.  Pont- 
chartrain executed  the  first  part  of  his  commission,  but 
not  the  second.  He  pointed  out  to  the  King  that  the 
speech  of  the  Abbe  de  Caumartin  had  been  revised  and 
corrected  by  M.  de  Noyon,  and  that,  therefore,  this 
latter  had  only  himself  to  blame  in  the  matter.  He 
declared,  too,  that  the  Abbe  was  very  sorry  for  what 
he  had  done,  and  was  most  willing  to  beg  pardon  of 
M.  de  Noyon.  The  lettre  de  cachet  thus  fell  to  the 
ground,  but  not  the  anger  of  the  prelate.  He  was  so 
outraged  that  he  would  not  see  the  Abbe,  retired  into 
his  diocese  to  hide  his  shame,  and  remained  there  a 
long  time. 

Upon  his  return  to  Paris,  however,  being  taken  ill, 
before  consenting  to  receive  the  sacraments,  he  sent 
for  the  Abbe,  embraced  him,  pardoned  him,  and  gave 
him  a  diamond  ring,  that  he  drew  from  his  finger,  and 
that  he  begged  him  to  keep  in  memory  of  him.  Nay, 
more,  when  he  was  cured,  he  used  all  his  influence  to 
reinstate  the  Abbe  in  the  esteem  of  the  King.    But  the 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  91 

King  could  never  forgive  what  had  taken  place,  and 
M.  de  Noyon,  by  this  grand  action,  gained  only  the 
favour  of  God  and  the  honour  of  the  world. 

I  must  finish  the  account  of  the  war  of  this  year  with 
a  strange  incident.  M.  de  Noailles,  who  had  been  so 
successful  in  Catalonia,  was  on  very  bad  terms  with 
Barbezieux,  secretary  of  state  for  the  war  department. 
Both  were  in  good  favour  with  the  King,  both  high  in 
power,  both  spoiled.  The  successes  in  Catalonia  had 
annoyed  Barbezieux.  They  smoothed  the  way  for  the 
siege  of  Barcelona,  and  that  place  once  taken,  the  very 
heart  of  Spain  would  have  been  exposed,  and  M.  de 
Noailles  would  have  gained  fresh  honours  and  glory. 
M.  de  Noailles  felt  this  so  completely  that  he  had 
pressed  upon  the  King  the  siege  of  Barcelona;  and 
when  the  fitting  time  came  for  undertaking  it,  sent  a 
messenger  to  him  with  full  information  of  the  forces 
and  supplies  he  required.  Fearing  that  if  he  wrote 
out  this  information  it  might  fall  into  the  hands  of 
Barbezieux,  and  never  reach  the  King,  he  simply 
gave  his  messenger  instructions  by  word  of  mouth, 
and  charged  him  to  deliver  them  so.  But  the  very 
means  he  had  taken  to  ensure  success  brought  about 
failure.  Barbezieux,  informed  by  his  spies  of  the  de- 
parture of  the  messenger,  waylaid  him,  bribed  him, 
and  induced  him  to  act  with  the  blackest  perfidy,  by 
telling  the  King  quite  a  different  story  to  that  he  was 
charged  with.  In  this  way,  the  project  for  the  siege 
of  Barcelona  was  entirely  broken,  at  the  moment  for 
its  execution,  and  with  the  most  reasonable  hopes  of 
success;  and  upon  M.  de  Noailles  rested  all  the  blame. 
What  a  thunderbolt  this  was  for  him  may  easily  be 
imagined.  But  the  trick  had  been  so  well  played,  that 
he  could  not  clear  himself  with  the  King;  and  all 
through  this  winter  he  remained  out  of  favour. 

At  last  he  thought  of  a  means  by  which  he  might 


92  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

regain  his  position.  He  saw  the  inclination  of  the 
King  for  his  illegitimate  children,  and  determined  to 
make  a  sacrifice  in  favour  of  one  of  them,  rightly 
judging  that  this  would  be  a  sure  means  to  step  back 
into  the  confidence  he  had  been  so  craftily  driven  from. 
His  scheme,  which  he  caused  to  be  placed  before  the 
King,  was  to  go  into  Catalonia  at  the  commencement 
of  the  next  campaign,  to  make  a  semblance  of  falling 
ill  immediately  upon  arriving,  to  send  to  Versailles 
a  request  that  he  might  be  recalled,  and  at  the  same 
time  a  suggestion  that  M.  de  Vendome  (who  would 
then  be  near  Nice,  under  Marechal  Catinat)  should 
succeed  him.  In  order  that  no  time  might  be  lost, 
nor  the  army  left  without  a  general,  he  proposed  to 
carry  with  him  the  letters  patent,  appointing  M.  de 
Vendome,  and  to  send  them  to  him  at  the  same  time 
that  he  sent  to  be  recalled. 

It  is  impossible  to  express  the  relief  and  satisfaction 
with  which  this  proposition  was  received.  The  King 
was  delighted  with  it,  as  with  everything  tending  to 
advance  his  illegitimate  children  and  to  put  a  slight 
upon  the  Princes  of  the  blood.  He  could  not  openly 
have  made  this  promotion  without  embroiling  him- 
self with  the  latter;  but  coming  as  it  would  from  M. 
de  Noailles,  he  had  nothing  to  fear.  M.  de  Vendome, 
once  general  of  an  army,  could  no  longer  serve  in  any 
other  quality,  and  would  act  as  a  stepping-stone  for 
M.  du  Maine. 

From  this  moment  M.  de  Noailles  returned  more 
than  ever  into  the  good  graces  of  the  King.  Every- 
thing happened  as  it  had  been  arranged.  But  the 
secret  was  betrayed  in  the  execution.  Surprise  was 
felt  that  at  the  same  moment  M.  de  Noailles  sent  a 
request  to  be  recalled,  he  also  sent,  and  without  wait- 
ing for  a  reply,  to  call  M.  de  Vendome  to  the  com- 
mand.    What  completely  raised  the  veil  were  the  let- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  93 

ters  patent  that  he  sent  immediately  after  to  M.  de 
Vendome,  and  that  it  was  known  he  could  not  have  re- 
ceived from  the  King  in  the  time  that  had  elapsed.  M. 
de  Noailles  returned  from  Catalonia,  and  was  received 
as  his  address  merited.  He  feigned  being  lame  with 
rheumatism,  and  played  the  part  for  a  long  time,  but 
forgot  himself  occasionally,  and  made  his  company 
smile.  He  fixed  himself  at  the  Court,  and  gained  there 
much  more  favour  than  he  could  have  gained  by  the 
war;  to  the  great  vexation  of  Barbezieux. 

M.  de  Luxembourg  very  strangely  married  his 
daughter  at  this  time  to  the  Chevalier  de  Soissons  (an 
illegitimate  son  of  the  Comte  de  Soissons),  brought 
out  from  the  greatest  obscurity  by  the  Comtesse  de 
Nemours,  and  adopted  by  her  to  spite  her  family.  M. 
de  Luxembourg  did  not  long  survive  this  fine  mar- 
riage. At  sixty-seven  years  of  age  he  believed  him- 
self twenty-five,  and  lived  accordingly.  The  want  of 
genuine  intrigues,  from  which  his  age  and  his  face  ex- 
cluded him,  he  supplied  by  money-power;  and  his  in- 
timacy, and  that  of  his  son,  with  the  Prince  de  Conti 
and  Albergotti  was  kept  up  almost  entirely  by  the  com- 
munity of  their  habits,  and  the  secret  parties  of  pleas- 
ure they  concocted  together.  All  the  burden  of 
marches,  of  orders  of  subsistence,  fell  upon  a  subor- 
dinate. Nothing  could  be  more  exact  than  the  coup 
d'ceil  of  M.  de  Luxembourg — nobody  could  be  more 
brilliant,  more  sagacious,  more  penetrating  than  he 
before  the  enemy  or  in  battle,  and  this,  too,  with  an 
audacity,  an  ease,  and  at  the  same  time  a  coolness, 
which  allowed  him  to  see  all  and  foresee  all  under  the 
hottest  fire,  and  in  the  most  imminent  danger.  It  was 
at  such  times  that  he  was  great.  For  the  rest  he  was 
idleness  itself.  He  rarely  walked  unless  absolutely 
obliged, — spent  his  time  in  gaming,  or  in  conversation 
with  his  familiars;  and  had  every  evening  a  supper 


94  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

with  a  chosen  few  (nearly  always  the  same)  ;  and  if 
near  a  town,  the  other  sex  were  always  agreeably 
mingled  with  them.  When  thus  occupied,  he  was  in- 
accessible to  everybody,  and  if  anything  pressing  hap- 
pened, it  was  his  subordinate  who  attended  to  it.  Such 
was  at  the  army  the  life  of  this  great  general,  and 
such  it  was  at  Paris,  except  that  the  Court  and  the 
great  world  occupied  his  days,  and  his  pleasures  the 
evenings.  At  last,  age,  temperament,  and  constitu- 
tion betrayed  him.  He  fell  ill  at  Versailles.  Given 
over  by  Fagon,  the  King's  physician,  Coretti,  an 
Italian,  who  had  secrets  of  his  own,  undertook  his 
cure,  and  relieved  him,  but  only  for  a  short  time.  His 
door  during  this  illness  was  besieged  by  all  the  Court. 
The  King  sent  to  inquire  after  him,  but  it  was  more 
for  appearance'  sake  than  from  sympathy,  for  I  have 
already  remarked  that  the  King  did  not  like  him.  The 
brilliancy  of  his  campaigns,  and  the  difficulty  of  re- 
placing him,  caused  all  the  disquietude.  Becoming 
worse,  M.  de  Luxembourg  received  the  sacraments, 
showed  some  religion  and  firmness,  and  died  on  the 
morning  of  the  4th  of  January,  1695,  the  fifth  day  of 
his  illness,  much  regretted  by  many  people,  but  per- 
sonally esteemed  by  none,  and  loved  by  very  few. 

Not  one  of  the  Dukes  M.  de  Luxembourg  had  at- 
tacked went  to  see  him  during  his  illness.  I  neither 
went  nor  sent,  although  at  Versailles,  and  I  must  ad- 
mit that  I  felt  my  deliverance  from  such  an  enemy. 

Here,  perhaps,  I  may  as  well  relate  the  result  of  the 
trial  in  which  we  were  engaged,  and  which,  after  the 
death  of  M.  de  Luxembourg,  was  continued  by  his  son. 
It  was  not  judged  until  the  following  year.  I  have 
shown  that  by  our  implicating  the  Due  de  Gesvres,  the 
Chief  President  had  been  declared  incapable  of  trying 
the  case.  The  rage  he  conceived  against  us  cannot  be 
expressed,  and,  great  actor  that  he  was,  he  could  not 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  95 

hide  it.  All  his  endeavour  afterwards  was  to  do  what 
he  could  against  us;  the  rest  of  the  mask  fell,  and  the 
deformity  of  the  judge  appeared  in  the  man,  stripped 
of  all  disguise. 

We  immediately  signified  to  M.  de  Luxembourg  that 
he  must  choose  between  the  letters  patent  of  1581  and 
those  of  1662.  If  he  abandoned  the  first  the  case  fell 
through;  in  repudiating  the  last  he  renounced  the  cer- 
tainty of  being  duke  and  peer  after  us;  and  ran  the 
risk  of  being  reduced  to  an  inferior  title  previously 
granted  to  him.  The  position  was  a  delicate  one;  he 
was  affrighted;  but  after  much  consultation  he  resolved 
to  run  all  risks  and  maintain  his  pretensions.  It  thus 
simply  became  a  question  of  his  right  to  the  title  of 
Due  de  Piney,  with  the  privilege  attached  to  it  as  a 
creation  of  1581. 

In  the  spring  of  1696  the  case  was  at  last  brought 
on,  before  the  Assembly  of  all  the  Chambers.  Myself 
and  the  other  Dukes  seated  ourselves  in  court  to  hear 
the  proceedings.  The  trial  commenced.  All  the  facts 
and  particulars  of  the  cause  were  brought  forward. 
Our  advocates  spoke,  and  then  few  doubted  but  that 
we  should  gain  the  victory.  M.  de  Luxembourg's  ad- 
vocate, Dumont,  was  next  heard.  He  was  very  auda- 
cious, and  spoke  so  insolently  of  us,  saying,  in  Scrip- 
ture phraseology,  that  we  honoured  the  King  with  our 
lips,  whilst  our  hearts  were  far  from  him,  that  I  could 
not  contain  myself.  I  was  seated  between  the  Due  de 
la  Rochefoucauld  and  the  Due  d'Estrees.  I  stood  up, 
crying  out  against  the  imposture  of  this  knave,  and 
calling  for  justice  on  him.  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld 
pulled  me  back,  made  me  keep  silent,  and  I  plunged 
down  into  my  seat  more  from  anger  against  him  than 
against  the  advocate.  My  movement  excited  a  mur- 
mur. We  might  on  the  instant  have  had  justice 
against  Dumont,  but  the  opportunity  had  passed  for 


$6  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

us  to  ask  for  it,  and  the  President  de  Maisons  made  a 
slight  excuse  for  him.  We  complained,  however, 
afterwards  to  the  King,  who  expressed  his  surprise 
that  Dumont  had  not  been  stopped  in  the  midst  of  his 
speech. 

The  summing  up  was  made  by  D'Aguesseau,  who 
acquitted  himself  of  the  task  with  much  eloquence  and 
impartiality.  His  speech  lasted  two  days.  This  be- 
ing over,  the  court  was  cleared,  and  the  judges  were 
left  alone  to  deliberate  upon  their  verdict.  Some  time 
after  we  were  called  in  to  hear  that  verdict  given.  It 
was  in  favour  of  M.  de  Luxembourg  in  so  far  as  the 
title  dating  from  1662  was  concerned;  but  the  con- 
sideration of  his  claim  to  the  title  of  1581  was  ad- 
journed indefinitely,  so  that  he  remained  exactly  in 
the  same  position  as  his  father. 

It  was  with  difficulty  we  could  believe  in  a  decree 
so  unjust  and  so  novel,  and  which  decided  a  question 
that  was  not  under  dispute.  I  was  outraged,  but  I 
endeavoured  to  contain  myself.  I  spoke  to  M.  de  la 
Rochefoucauld;  I  tried  to  make  him  listen  to  me,  and 
to  agree  that  we  should  complain  to  the  King,  but  I 
spoke  to  a  man  furious,  incapable  of  understanding 
anything  or  of  doing  anything.  Returning  to  my  own 
house,  I  wrote  a  letter  to  the  King,  in  which  I  com- 
plained of  the  opinion  of  the  judges.  I  also  pointed 
out,  that  when  everybody  had  been  ordered  to  retire 
from  the  council  chamber,  Harlay  and  his  secretary 
had  been  allowed  to  remain.  On  these  and  other 
grounds  I  begged  the  King  to  grant  a  new  trial. 

I  carried  this  letter  to  the  Due  de  la  Tremoille,  but 
I  could  not  get  him  to  look  at  it.  I  returned  home 
more  vexed  if  possible  than  when  I  left.  The  King, 
nevertheless,  was  exceedingly  dissatisfied  with  the 
judgment.  He  explained  himself  to  that  effect  at  his 
dinner,  and  in  a  manner  but  little  advantageous  to  the 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  97 

Parliament,  and  prepared  himself  to  receive  the  com- 
plaints he  expected  would  be  laid  before  him.  But 
the  obstinacy  of  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld,  which  turned 
into  vexation  against  himself,  rendered  it  impossible 
for  us  to  take  any  steps  in  the  matter,  and  so  over- 
whelmed me  with  displeasure,  that  I  retired  to  La 
Trappe  during  Passion  Week  in  order  to  recover 
myself. 

At  my  return  I  learned  that  the  King  had  spoken  of 
this  judgment  to  the  Chief  President,  and  that  that 
magistrate  had  blamed  it,  saying  the  cause  was  indu- 
bitably ours,  and  that  he  had  always  thought  so!  If 
he  thought  so,  why  oppose  us  so  long?  and  if  he  did 
not  think  so,  what  a  prevaricator  was  he  to  reply  with 
this  flattery,  so  as  to  be  in  accord  with  the  King  ?  The 
judges  themselves  were  ashamed  of  their  verdict,  and 
excused  themselves  for  it  on  the  ground  of  their  com- 
passion for  the  state  in  which  M.  de  Luxembourg 
would  have  been  placed  had  he  lost  the  title  of  1662, 
and  upon  its  being  impossible  that  he  should  gain  the 
one  of  1581,  of  which  they  had  left  him  the  chimera. 
M.  de  Luxembourg  was  accordingly  received  at  the 
Parliament  on  the  4th  of  the  following  May,  with  the 
rank  of  1662.  He  came  and  visited  all  of  us,  but  we 
would  have  no  intercourse  with  him  or  with  his 
judges.  To  the  Advocate-General,  D'Aguesseau,  we 
carried  our  thanks. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THUS  ended  this  long  and  important  case;  and 
now  let  me  go  back  again  to  the  events  of  the 
previous  year. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  summer  and  the  commence- 
ment of  the  winter  of  1695,  negotiations  for  peace 
were  set  on  foot  by  the  King.  Harlay,  son-in-law  of 
our  enemy,  was  sent  to  Maestricht  to  sound  the  Dutch. 
But  in  proportion  as  they  saw  peace  desired  were  they 
less  inclined  to  listen  to  terms.  They  had  even  the  im- 
pudence to  insinuate  to  Harlay,  whose  paleness  and 
thinness  were  extraordinary,  that  they  took  him  for  a 
sample  of  the  reduced  state  of  France!  He,  without 
getting  angry,  replied  pleasantly,  that  if  they  would 
give  him  the  time  to  send  for  his  wife,  they  would,  per- 
haps, conceive  another  opinion  of  the  position  of  the 
realm.  In  effect,  she  was  extremely  fat,  and  of  a  very 
high  colour.  He  was  rather  roughly  dismissed,  and 
hastened  to  regain  our  frontier. 

Two  events  followed  each  other  very  closely  this 
winter.  The  first  was  the  death  of  the  Princess  of 
Orange,  in  London,  at  the  end  of  January.  The  King 
of  England  prayed  our  King  to  allow  the  Court  to 
wear  no  mourning,  and  it  was  even  prohibited  to  M. 
de  Bouillon  and  M.  de  Duras,  who  were  both  related 
to  the  Prince  of  Orange.  The  order  was  obeyed,  and 
no  word  was  said;  but  this  sort  of  vengeance  was 
thought  petty.  Hopes  were  held  out  of  a  change  in 
England,  but  they  vanished  immediately,  and  the 
Prince  of  Orange  appeared  more  accredited  there  and 
stronger  than  ever.    The  Princess  was  much  regretted, 

98 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  99 

and  the  Prince  of  Orange,  who  loved  her  and  gave  her 
his  entire  confidence,  and  even  most  marked  respect, 
was  for  some  days  ill  with  grief. 

The  other  event  was  strange.  The  Duke  of  Han- 
over, who,  in  consequence  of  the  Revolution,  was  des- 
tined to  the  throne  of  England  after  the  Prince  and 
Princess  of  Orange  and  the  Princess  of  Denmark,  had 
married  his  cousin-german,  a  daughter  of  the  Duke  of 
Zell.  She  was  beautiful,  and  he  lived  happily  with  her 
for  some  time.  The  Count  of  Koenigsmarck,  young 
and  very  well  made,  came  to  the  Court,  and  gave  him 
some  umbrage.  The  Duke  of  Hanover  became  jeal- 
ous; he  watched  his  wife  and  the  Count,  and  at  length 
believed  himself  fully  assured  of  what  he  would  have 
wished  to  remain  ignorant  of  all  his  life.  Fury  seized 
him:  he  had  the  Count  arrested  and  thrown  into  a 
hot  oven.  Immediately  afterwards  he  sent  his  wife 
tq  her  father,  who  shut  her  up  in  one  of  his  castles, 
where  she  was  strictly  guarded  by  the  people  of  the 
Duke  of  Hanover.  An  assembly  of  the  Consistory  was 
held  in  order  to  break  ofT  his  marriage.  It  was  de- 
cided, very  singularly,  that  the  marriage  was  annulled 
so  far  as  the  Duke  was  concerned,  and  that  he  could 
marry  another  woman;  but  that  it  remained  binding 
on  the  Duchess,  and  that  she  could  not  marry.  The 
children  she  had  had  during  her  marriage  were  de- 
clared legitimate.  The  Duke  of  Hanover  did  not  re- 
main persuaded  as  to  this  last  article. 

The  King,  entirely  occupied  with  the  aggrandise- 
ment of  his  natural  children,  had  heaped  upon  the 
Comte  de  Toulouse  every  possible  favour.  He  now 
(in  order  to  evade  a  promise  he  had  made  to  his 
brother,  that  the  first  vacant  government  should  be 
given  to  the  Due  de  Chartres)  forced  M.  de  Chaulnes 
to  give  up  the  government  of  Brittany,  which  he  had 
long  held,  and  conferred  it  upon  the  Comte  de  Tou- 

Vol.  11  Memoirs — D 


zoo  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

louse,  giving  to  the  friend  and  heir  of  the  former  the 
successorship  to  the  government  of  Guyenne,  by  way 
of  recompense. 

M.  de  Chaulnes  was  old  and  fat,  but  much  loved  by 
the  people  of  Brittany.  He  was  overwhelmed  by  this 
determination  of  the  King,  and  his  wife,  who  had  long 
been  accustomed  to  play  the  little  Queen,  still  more  so; 
yet  there  was  nothing  for  them  but  to  obey.  They  did 
obey,  but  it  was  with  a  sorrow  and  chagrin  they  could 
not  hide. 

The  appointment  was  announced  one  morning  at  the 
rising  of  the  King.  Monsieur,  who  awoke  later,  heard 
of  it  at  the  drawing  of  his  curtains,  and  was  extremely 
piqued.  The  Comte  de  Toulouse  came  shortly  after- 
wards, and  announced  it  himself.  Monsieur  inter- 
rupted him,  and  before  everybody  assembled  there 
said,  "  The  King  has  given  you  a  good  present;  but  I 
know  not  if  what  he  has  done  is  good  policy."  Mon- 
sieur went  shortly  afterwards  to  the  King,  and  re- 
proached him  for  giving,  under  cover  of  a  trick,  the 
government  of  Brittany  to  the  Comte  de  Toulouse, 
having  promised  it  to  the  Due  de  Chartres.  The  King 
heard  him  in  silence :  he  knew  well  how  to  appease 
him.  Some  money  for  play  and  to  embellish  Saint 
Cloud,  soon  effaced  Monsieur's  chagrin. 

All  this  winter  my  mother  was  solely  occupied  in 
finding  a  good  match  for  me.  Some  attempt  was  made 
to  marry  me  to  Mademoiselle  de  Royan.  It  would 
have  been  a  noble  and  rich  marriage ;  but  I  was  alone, 
Mademoiselle  de  Royan  was  an  orphan,  and  I  wished 
a  father-in-law  and  a  family  upon  whom  I  could  lean. 
During  the  preceding  year  there  had  been  some  talk 
of  the  eldest  daughter  of  Marechal  de  Lorges  for  me. 
The  affair  had  fallen  through,  almost  as  soon  as  sug- 
gested, and  now,  on  both  sides,  there  was  a  desire  to 
recommence  negotiations.     The  probity,  integrity,  the 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  101 

freedom  of  Marechal  de  Lorges  pleased  me  infinitely, 
and  everything  tended  to  give  me  an  extreme  desire 
for  this  marriage.  Madame  de  Lorges  by  her  virtue 
and  good  sense  was  all  I  could  wish  for  as  the  mother 
of  my  future  wife.  Mademoiselle  de  Lorges  was  a 
blonde,  with  a  complexion  and  figure  perfect,  a  very 
amiable  face,  an  extremely  noble  and  modest  deport- 
ment, and  with  I  know  not  what  of  majesty  derived 
from  her  air  of  virtue,  and  of  natural  gentleness.  The 
Marechal  had  five  other  daughters,  but  I  liked  this  one 
best  without  comparison,  and  hoped  to  find  with  her 
that  happiness  which  she  since  has  given  me.  As  she 
has  become  my  wife,  I  will  abstain  here  from  saying 
more  about  her,  unless  it  be  that  she  has  exceeded  all 
that  was  promised  of  her,  and  all  that  I  myself  had 
hoped. 

My  marriage  being  agreed  upon  and  arranged  the 
Marechal  de  Lorges  spoke  of  it  to  the  King,  who  had 
the  goodness  to  reply  to  him  that  he  could  not  do  bet- 
ter, and  to  speak  of  me  very  obligingly.  The  marriage 
accordingly  took  place  at  the  Hotel  de  Lorges,  on  the 
8th  of  April,  1695,  which  I  have  always  regarded,  and 
with  good  reason,  as  the  happiest  day  of  my  life.  My 
mother  treated  me  like  the  best  mother  in  the  world. 
On  the  Thursday  before  Quasimodo  the  contract  was 
signed ;  a  grand  repast  followed ;  at  midnight  the  cure 
of  Saint  Roch  said  mass,  and  married  us  in  the  chapel 
of  the  house.  On  the  eve,  my  mother  had  sent  forty 
thousand  livres'  worth  of  precious  stones  to  Mademoi- 
selle de  Lorges,  and  I  six  hundred  louis  in  a  corbeille 
filled  with  all  the  knick-knacks  that  are  given  on  these 
occasions. 

We  slept  in  the  grand  apartment  of  the  Hotel  des 
Lorges.  On  the  morrow,  after  dinner,  my  wife  went 
to  bed,  and  received  a  crowd  of  visitors,  who  came  to 
pay  their  respects  and  to  gratify  their  curiosity.    The 


RN1A 


io2  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

next  evening  we  went  to  Versailles,  and  were  received 
by  Madame  de  Maintenon  and  the  King.  On  ar- 
riving at  the  supper-table,  the  King  said  to  the  new 
Duchess : — "  Madame,  will  you  be  pleased  to  seat 
yourself?  " 

His  napkin  being  unfolded,  he  saw  all  the  duchesses 
and  princesses  still  standing;  and  rising  in  his  chair, 
he  said  to  Madame  de  Saint-Simon — "  Madame,  I 
have  already  begged  you  to  be  seated;"  and  all  imme- 
diately seated  themselves.  On  the  morrow,  Madame 
de  Saint-Simon  received  all  the  Court  in  her  bed — in 
the  apartment  of  the  Duchesse  d'Arpajon,  as  being 
more  handy,  being  on  the  ground  floor.  Our  festivi- 
ties finished  by  a  supper  that  I  gave  to  the  former 
friends  of  my  father,  whose  acquaintance  I  had  al- 
ways cultivated  with  great  care. 

Almost  immediately  after  my  marriage  the  second 
daughter  of  the  Marechal  de  Lorges  followed  in  the 
footsteps  of  her  sister.  She  was  fifteen  years  of  age, 
and  at  the  reception  of  Madame  de  Saint-Simon  had 
attracted  the  admiration  of  M.  de  Lauzun,  who  was 
then  sixty-three.  Since  his  return  to  the  Court  he  had 
been  reinstated  in  the  dignity  he  had  previously  held. 
He  flattered  himself  that  by  marrying  the  daughter 
of  a  General  he  should  re-open  a  path  to  himself  for 
command  in  the  army.  Full  of  this  idea  he  spoke  to 
M.  de  Lorges,  who  was  by  no  means  inclined  towards 
the  marriage.  M.  de  Lauzun  offered,  however,  to 
marry  without  dowry;  and  M.  de  Lorges,  moved  by 
this  consideration,  assented  to  his  wish.  The  affair 
concluded,  M.  de  Lorges  spoke  of  it  to  the  King. 
"  You  are  bold,"  said  his  Majesty,  "  to  take  Lauzun 
into  your  family.    I  hope  you  may  not  repent  of  it." 

The  contract  was  soon  after  signed.  M.  de  Lorges 
gave  no  dowry  with  his  daughter,  but  she  was  to  in- 
herit something  upon  the  death  of  M.  Fremont.     We 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  103 

carried  this  contract  to  the  King,  who  smiled  and  ban- 
tered M.  de  Lauzun.  M.  de  Lauzun  replied,  that  he 
was  only  too  happy,  since  it  was  the  first  time  since 
his  return  that  he  had  seen  the  King  smile  at  him. 
The  marriage  took  place  without  delay:  there  were 
only  seven  or  eight  persons  present  at  the  ceremony. 
M.  de  Lauzun  would  undress  himself  alone  with  his 
valet  de  chambre,  and  did  not  enter  the  apartment  of 
his  wife  until  after  everybody  had  left  it,  and  she  was 
in  bed  with  the  curtains  closed,  and  nobody  to  meet 
him  on  his  passage.  His  wife  received  company  in 
bed,  as  mine  had  done.  Nobody  was  able  to  under- 
stand this  marriage;  and  all  foresaw  that  a  rupture 
would  speedily  be  brought  about  by  the  well-known 
temper  of  M.  de  Lauzun.  In  effect,  this  is  what  soon 
happened.  The  Marechal  de  Lorges,  remaining  still 
in  weak  health,  was  deemed  by  the  King  unable  to 
take  the  field  again,  and  his  army  given  over  to  the 
command  of  another  General.  M.  de  Lauzun  thus 
saw  all  his  hopes  of  advancement  at  an  end,  and,  dis- 
contented that  the  Marechal  had  done  nothing  for 
him,  broke  off  all  connection  with  the  family,  took 
away  Madame  de  Lauzun  from  her  mother  (to  the 
great  grief  of  the  latter,  who  doted  upon  this  daugh- 
ter), and  established  her  in  a  house  of  his  own  ad- 
joining the  Assumption,  in  the  Faubourg  Saint- 
Honore.  There  she  had  to  endure  her  husband's  con- 
tinual caprices,  but  little  removed  in  their  manifesta- 
tion from  madness.  Everybody  cast  blame  upon  him, 
and  strongly  pitied  her  and  her  father  and  mother;  but 
nobody  was  surprised. 

A  few  days  after  the  marriage  of  M.  de  Lauzun,  as 
the  King  was  being  wheeled  in  his  easy  chair  in  the 
gardens  at  Versailles,  he  asked  me  for  many  minute 
particulars  concerning  the  family  of  the  Marechal  de 
Lorges.     He  then  set  himself  to  joke  with  me  upon 


104  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

the  marriage  of  M.  de  Lauzun — and  upon  mine.  He 
said  to  me,  in  spite  of  that  gravity  which  never  quit- 
ted him,  that  he  had  learnt  from  the  Marechal  I  had 
well  acquitted  myself,  but  that  he  believed  the  Mare- 
chale  had  still  better  news. 

The  loss  of  two  illustrious  men  about  this  time, 
made  more  noise  than  that  of  two  of  our  grand  ladies. 
The  first  of  these  men  was  La  Fontaine,  so  well  known 
by  his  "  Fables  "  and  stories,  and  who,  nevertheless, 
was  so  heavy  in  conversation.  The  other  was  Mi- 
gnard — so  illustrious  by  his  pencil :  he  had  an  only 
daughter — perfectly  beautiful :  she  is  repeated  in  sev- 
eral of  those  magnificent  historical  pictures  which 
adorn  the  grand  gallery  of  Versailles  and  its  two 
salons,  and  which  have  had  no  slight  share  in  irritat- 
ing all  Europe  against  the  King,  and  in  leaguing  it  still 
more  against  his  person  than  his  realm. 

At  the  usual  time  the  armies  were  got  ready  for  ac- 
tive service,  and  everybody  set  out  to  join  them.  That 
of  the  Rhine,  in  which  I  was,  was  commanded  by  the 
Marechal  de  Lorges.  No  sooner  had  we  crossed  the 
river  and  come  upon  the  enemy,  than  the  Marechal 
fell  ill.  Although  we  were  in  want  of  forage  and  were 
badly  encamped,  nobody  complained — nobody  wished 
to  move.  Never  did  an  army  show  so  much  interest 
in  the  life  of  its  chief,  or  so  much  love  for  him.  M. 
de  Lorges  was,  in  truth,  at  the  last  extremity,  and  the 
doctors  that  had  been  sent  for  from  Strasbourg  gave 
him  up  entirely.  I  took  upon  myself  to  administer  to 
him  some  "  English  Drops."  One  hundred  and  thirty 
were  given  him  in  three  doses :  the  effect  was  astonish- 
ing; an  eruption  burst  out  upon  the  Mammal's  body, 
and  saved  his  life.  His  illness  was  not,  however,  at  an 
end;  and  the  army,  although  suffering  considerably, 
would  not  hear  of  moving  until  he  was  quite  ready 
to   move   also.     There    was   no   extremity   it   would 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  105 

not  undergo  rather  than  endanger  the  life  of  its 
chief. 

Prince  Louis  of  Baden  offered  by  trumpets  all  sorts 
of  assistance — doctors  and  remedies,  and  gave  his 
word  that  if  the  army  removed  from  its  General,  he 
and  those  who  remained  with  him  should  be  provided 
with  forage  and  provisions — should  be  unmolested 
and  allowed  to  rejoin  the  main  body  in  perfect  safety, 
or  go  whithersoever  they  pleased.  He  was  thanked, 
as  he  merited,  for  those  very  kind  offers,  which  we 
did  not  wish,  however,  to  profit  by. 

Little  by  little  the  health  of  the  General  was  re- 
established, and  the  army  demonstrated  its  joy  by  bon- 
fires all  over  the  camp,  and  by  salvos,  which  it  was  im- 
possible to  prevent.  Never  was  seen  testimony  of  love 
so  universal  or  so  flattering.  The  King  was  much  con- 
cerned at  the  illness  of  the  Marechal;  all  the  Court  was 
infinitely  touched  by  it.  M.  de  Lorges  was  not  less 
loved  by  it  than  by  the  troops.  When  able  to  support 
the  fatigues  of  the  journey,  he  was  removed  in  a  coach 
to  Philipsburg,  where  he  was  joined  by  the  Marechal, 
who  had  come  there  to  meet  him.  The  next  day  he 
went  to  Landau,  and  I,  who  formed  one  of  his  numer- 
ous and  distinguished  escort,  accompanied  him  there, 
and  then  returned  to  the  army,  which  was  placed  under 
the  command  of  the  Marechal  de  Joyeuse. 

We  found  it  at  about  three  leagues  from  Ketsch,  its 
right  at  Roth,  and  its  left  at  Waldsdorff.  We  learned 
that  the  Marechal  de  Joyeuse  had  lost  a  good  occasion 
of  fighting  the  enemy;  but  as  I  was  not  in  camp  at  the 
time,  I  will  say  no  more  of  the  matter.  Our  position 
was  not  good :  Schwartz  was  on  our  left,  and  the 
Prince  of  Baden  on  our  right,  hemming  us  in,  as  it 
were,  between  them.  We  had  no  forage,  whilst  they 
had  abundance  of  everything,  and  were  able  to  procure 
all  they  wanted.    There  was  a  contest  who  should  de- 


io6  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

camp  the  last.     All  our  communications  were  cut  off 
with   Philipsburg,   so   that   we   could  not   repass   the 
Rhine  under  the  protection  of  that  place.     To  get  out 
of  our  position,  it  was  necessary  to  defile  before  our 
enemies  into  the  plain  of  Hockenun,  and  this  was  a 
delicate  operation.     The  most  annoying  circumstance 
was,  that  M.  de  Joyeuse  would  communicate  with  no- 
body, and  was  so  ill-tempered  that  none  dared  to  speak 
to  him.     At  last  he  determined  upon  his  plans,  and  I 
was  of  the  detachment  by  which  they  were  to  be  car- 
ried out.     We  were  sent  to  Manheim  to  see  if  out  of 
the  ruins  of  that  place   (burned  in   1688  by  M.  de 
Louvois)   sufficient  materials  could  be  found  to  con- 
struct bridges,  by  which  we  might  cross  the  Rhine 
there.    We  found  that  the  bridges  could  be  made,  and 
returned  to  announce  this  to   M.   de  Joyeuse.     Ac- 
cordingly, on  the  20th  of  July,  the  army  put  itself  in 
movement.     The  march  was  made  in  the  utmost  con- 
fusion.   Everything  was  in  disorder;  the  infantry  and 
cavalry  were  huddled  together  pell-mell;  no  commands 
could  be  acted  upon,  and  indeed  the  whole  army  was 
so  disorganised  that  it  could  have  been  easily  beaten 
by  a  handful  of  men.    In  effect,  the  enemy  at  last  tried 
to  take  advantage  of  our  confusion,  by  sending  a  few 
troops  to  harass  us.     But  it  was  too  late;   we  had 
sufficiently  rallied  to  be  able  to  turn  upon  them,  and 
they  narrowly  escaped   falling  into  our  hands.     We 
encamped  that  night  in  the  plain  on  the  banks  of  the 
Necker — our  rear  at  Manheim,  and  our  left  at  Secken- 
heim,  while  waiting  for  the  remainder  of  the  army, 
still  very  distant.     Indeed,  so  great  had  been  the  con- 
fusion, that  the  first  troops  arrived  at  one  o'clock  at 
night,  and  the  last  late  in  the  morning  of  the  next  day. 
I  thought  that  our  headquarters  were  to  be  in  this 
village  of  Seckenheim,  and,  in  company  with  several 
officers  took  possession  of  a  large  house  and  prepared 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  107 

to  pass  the  night  there.  While  we  were  resting  from 
the  fatigues  of  the  day  we  heard  a  great  noise,  and 
soon  after  a  frightful  uproar.  It  was  caused  by  a 
body  of  our  men,  who,  searching  for  water,  had  dis- 
covered this  village,  and  after  having  quenched  their 
thirst  had,  under  the  cover  of  thick  darkness,  set  them- 
selves to  pillage,  to  violate,  to  massacre,  and  to  com- 
mit all  the  horrors  inspired  by  the  most  unbridled 
licence.  La  Bretesche,  a  lieutenant-general,  declared 
to  me  that  he  had  never  seen  anything  like  it,  although 
he  had  several  times  been  at  pillages  and  sackings. 
He  was  very  grateful  that  he  had  not  yielded  to  my 
advice,  and  taken  off  his  wooden  leg  to  be  more  at 
ease;  for  in  a  short  time  we  ourselves  were  invaded, 
and  had  some  trouble  to  defend  ourselves.  As  we 
bore  the  livery  of  M.  de  Lorges,  we  were  respected, 
but  those  who  bore  that  of  M.  de  Joyeuse  were  in  some 
cases  severely  maltreated.  We  passed  the  rest  of  the 
night  as  well  as  we  could  in  this  unhappy  place,  which 
was  not  abandoned  by  our  soldiers  until  long  after 
there  was  nothing  more  to  find.  At  daylight  we  went 
to  the  camp. 

We  found  the  army  beginning  to  move:  it  had 
passed  the  night  as  well  as  it  could  without  order,  the 
troops  constantly  arriving,  and  the  last  comers  simply 
joining  themselves  on  to  the  rest.  Our  camp  was 
soon,  however,  properly  formed,  and  on  the  24th  July, 
the  bridges  being  ready,  all  the  army  crossed  the 
Rhine,  without  any  attempt  being  made  by  the  enemy 
to  follow  us.  On  the  day  after,  the  Marechal  de 
Joyeuse  permitted  me  to  go  to  Landau,  where  I  re- 
mained with  the  Marechal  and  the  Marechale  de 
Lorges  until  the  General  was  again  able  to  place  him- 
self at  the  head  of  his  army. 

Nothing  of  importance  was  done  by  our  other 
armies;  but  in  Flanders  an  interesting  adventure  oc- 


108  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

curred.  The  Prince  of  Orange,  after  playing  a  fine 
game  of  chess  with  our  army,  suddenly  invested 
Namur  with  a  large  force,  leaving  the  rest  of  his 
troops  under  the  command  of  M.  de  Vaudemont. 
The  Marechal  de  Villeroy,  who  had  the  command  of 
our  army  in  Flanders,  at  once  pressed  upon  M.  de 
Vaudemont,  who,  being  much  the  weaker  of  the  two, 
tried  hard  to  escape.  Both  felt  that  everything  was  in 
their  hands :  Vaudemont,  that  upon  his  safety  de- 
pended the  success  of  the  siege  of  Namur;  and  Ville- 
roy, that  to  his  victory  was  attached  the  fate  of  the 
Low  Countries,  and  very  likely  a  glorious  peace,  with 
all  the  personal  results  of  such  an  event.  He  took  his 
measures  so  well  that  on  the  evening  of  the  13th  of 
July  it  was  impossible  for  M.  de  Vaudemont  to  escape 
falling  into  his  hands  on  the  14th,  and  he  wrote  thus 
to  the  King.  At  daybreak  on  the  14th  M.  de  Villeroy 
sent  word  to  M.  du  Maine  to  commence  the  action. 
Impatient  that  his  orders  were  not  obeyed,  he  sent  again 
five  or  six  times.  M.  du  Maine  wished  in  the  first 
instance  to  reconnoitre,  then  to  confess  himself,  and 
delayed  in  effect  so  long  that  M.  de  Vaudemont  was 
able  to  commence  his  retreat.  The  general  officers 
cried  out  at  this.  One  of  them  came  to  M.  du  Maine 
and  reminded  him  of  the  repeated  orders  of  the 
Marechal  de  Villeroy,  represented  the  importance  of 
victory,  and  the  ease  with  which  it  could  be  ob- 
tained :  with  tears  in  his  eyes  he  begged  M.  du  Maine 
to  commence  the  attack.  It  was  all  in  vain;  M.  du 
Maine  stammered,  and  could  not  be  prevailed  upon 
to  charge,  and  so  allowed  M.  de  Vaudemont's  army 
to  escape,  when  by  a  single  movement  it  might  have 
been  entirely  defeated. 

All  our  army  was  in  despair,  and  officers  and 
soldiers  made  no  scruple  of  expressing  their  anger 
and  contempt.     M.  de  Villeroy,  more  outraged  than 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  109; 

anybody  else,  was  yet  too  good  a  courtier  to  excuse 
himself  at  the  expense  of  M.  du  Maine.  He  simply 
wrote  to  the  King,  that  he  had  been  deceived  in  those 
hopes  of  success  which  appeared  certain  the  day  be- 
fore, entered  into  no  further  details,  and  resigned 
himself  to  all  that  might  happen.  The  King,  who  had 
counted  the  hours  until  news  of  a  great  and  de- 
cisive victory  should  reach  him,  was  very  much  sur- 
prised when  this  letter  came:  he  saw  at  once  that 
something  strange  had  happened  of  which  no  intelli- 
gence had  been  sent :  he  searched  the  gazettes  of  Hol- 
land; in  one  he  read  of  a  great  action  said  to 
have  been  fought,  and  in  which  M.  du  Maine  had  been 
grievously  wounded;  in  the  next  the  news  of  the  action 
was  contradicted,  and  M.  du  Maine  was  declared  to 
have  received  no  wounds  at  all.  In  order  to  learn 
what  had  really  taken  place,  the  King  sent  for 
Lavienne,  a  man  he  was  in  the  habit  of  consulting 
when  he  wanted  to  learn  things  no  one  else  dared  to 
tell  him. 

This  Lavienne  had  been  a  bath-keeper  much  in 
vogue  in  Paris,  and  had  become  bath-keeper  to  the 
King  at  the  time  of  his  amours.  He  had  pleased  by 
his  drugs,  which  had  frequently  put  the  King  in  a  state 
to  enjoy  himself  more,  and  this  road  had  led  Lavienne 
to  become  one  of  the  four  chief  valets  de  chambre. 
He  was  a  very  honest  man,  but  coarse,  rough,  and 
free-spoken;  it  was  this  last  quality  which  made  him 
useful  in  the  manner  I  have  before  mentioned.  From 
Lavienne  the  King,  but  not  without  difficulty,  learned 
the  truth:  it  threw  him  into  despair.  The  other 
illegitimate  children  were  favourites  with  him,  but  it 
was  upon  M.  du  Maine  that  all  his  hopes  were  placed. 
They  now  fell  to  the  ground,  and  the  grief  of  the 
King  was  insupportable :  he  felt  deeply  for  that  dear 
son  whose  troops  had  become  the  laughing  stock  of 


no  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

the  army;  he  felt  the  railleries  that,  as  the  gazettes 
showed  him,  foreigners  were  heaping  upon  his  forces; 
and  his  vexation  was  inconceivable. 

This  Prince,  so  equal  in  his  manners,  so  thoroughly 
master  of  his  lightest  movements,  even  upon  the  grav- 
est occasions,  succumbed  under  this  event.  On  rising 
from  the  table  at  Marly  he  saw  a  servant  who,  while 
taking  away  the  dessert,  helped  himself  to  a  biscuit, 
which  he  put  in  his  pocket.  On  the  instant,  the  King 
forgets  his  dignity,  and  cane  in  hand  runs  to  this  valet 
(who  little  suspected  what  was  in  store  for  him), 
strikes  him,  abuses  him,  and  breaks  the  cane  upon  his 
body !  The  truth  is,  'twas  only  a  reed,  and  snapped 
easily.  However,  the  stump  in  his  hand,  he  walked 
away  like  a  man  quite  beside  himself,  continuing  to 
abuse  this  valet,,  and  entered  Madame  de  Maintenon's 
room,  where  he  remained  nearly  an  hour.  Upon 
coming  out  he  met  Father  la  Chaise.  "  My 
father,"  said  the  King  to  him,  in  a  very  loud  voice, 
"  I  have  beaten  a  knave  and  broken  my  cane  over  his 
shoulders,  but  I  do  not  think  I  have  offended  God." 
Everybody  around  trembled  at  this  public  confession, 
and  the  poor  priest  muttered  a  semblance  of  approval 
between  his  teeth,  to  avoid  irritating  the  King  more. 
The  noise  that  the  affair  made  and  the  terror  it  in- 
spired may  be  imagined;  for  nobody  could  divine  for 
some  time  the  cause;  and  everybody  easily  under- 
stood that  that  which  had  appeared  could  not  be  the 
real  one.  To  finish  with  this  matter,  once  for  all,  let 
us  add  here  the  saying  of  M.  d'Elbceuf.  Courtier 
though  he  was,  the  upward  flight  of  the  illegitimate 
children  weighed  upon  his  heart.  As  the  campaign  was 
at  its  close  and  the  Princes  were  about  to  depart,  he 
begged  M.  du  Maine  before  everybody  to  say  where  he 
expected  to  serve  during  the  next  campaign,  because 
wherever  it  might  be  he  should  like  to  be  there  also. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  in 

After  being  pressed  to  say  why,  he  replied  that  "  with 
him  one's  life  was  safe."  This  pointed  remark  made 
much  noise.  M.  du  Maine  lowered  his  eyes,  and  did 
not  reply  one  word.  As  for  the  Marechal  de  Villeroy 
he  grew  more  and  more  in  favour  with  the  King  and 
with  Madame  de  Maintenon.  The  bitter  fruit  of  M. 
du  Maine's  act  was  the  taking  of  Namur,  which 
capitulated  on  August  4th  (1695).  The  Marechal  de 
Villeroy  in  turn  bombarded  Brussels,  which  was  sorely 
maltreated.  The  Marechal  de  Boufflers,  who  had  de- 
fended Namur,  was  made  Duke,  and  those  who  had 
served  under  him  were  variously  rewarded.  This 
gave  occasion  for  the  Prince  of  Orange  to  say,  that 
the  King  recompensed  more  liberally  the  loss  of  a 
place  than  he  could  the  conquest  of  one.  The  army 
retired  into  winter-quarters  at  the  end  of  October, 
and  the  Generals  went  to  Paris. 

As  for  me,  I  remained  six  weeks  at  Landau  with 
M.  and  Madame  de  Lorges.  At  the  end  of  that  time, 
the  Marechal,  having  regained  his  health,  returned 
to  the  army,  where  he  was  welcomed  with  the  utmost 
joy :  he  soon  after  had  an  attack  of  apoplexy,  and,  by 
not  attending  to  his  malady  in  time,  became  seriously 
ill  again.  When  a  little  recovered,  he  and  Madame 
de  Lorges  set  out  for  Vichy,  and  I  went  to  Paris. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

BEFORE  speaking  of  what  happened  at  Court 
after  my  return,  it  will  be  necessary  to  record 
what  had  occurred  there  during  the  campaign. 

M.  de  Brias,  Archbishop  of  Cambrai,  had  died,  and 
the  King  had  given  that  valuable  preferment  to  the 
Abbe  de  Fenelon,  preceptor  of  the  children  of  France. 
Fenelon  was  a  man  of  quality,  without  fortune, — 
whom  the  consciousness  of  wit — of  the  insinuating 
and  captivating  kind — united  with  much  ability,  grace- 
fulness of  intellect,  and  learning,  inspired  with  am- 
bition. He  had  been  long  going  about  from  door  to 
door,  knocking  for  admission,  but  without  success. 
Piqued  against  the  Jesuits,  to  whom  he  had  addressed 
himself  at  first,  as  holding  all  favours  in  their  hands, 
and  discouraged  because  unable  to  succeed  in  that 
quarter,  he  turned  next  to  the  Jansenists,  to  console 
himself  by  the  reputation  he  hoped  he  should  derive 
from  them,  for  the  loss  of  those  gifts  of  fortune  which 
hitherto  had  despised  him. 

He  remained  a  considerable  time  undergoing  the 
process  of  initiation,  and  succeeded  at  last  in  being  of 
the  private  parties  that  some  of  the  important  Jansen- 
ists then  held  once  or  twice  a  week  at  the  house  of 
the  Duchesse  de  Brancas.  I  know  not  if  he  appeared 
too  clever  for  them,  or  if  he  hoped  elsewhere  for  bet- 
ter things  than  he  could  get  among  people  who  had 
only  sores  to  share ;  but  little  by  little  his  intimacy  with 
them  cooled;  and  by  dint  of  turning  around  Saint 
Sulpice,  he  succeeded  in  forming  another  connection 

112 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  113 

there,  upon  which  he  built  greater  expectations.  This 
society  of  priests  was  beginning  to  distinguish  itself, 
and  from  a  seminary  of  a  Paris  parish  to  extend 
abroad.  Ignorance,  the  minuteness  of  their  practices, 
the  absence  of  all  patrons  and  of  members  at  all  dis- 
tinguished in  any  way,,  inspired  them  with  a  blind 
obedience  to  Rome  and  to  all  its  maxims;  with  a 
great  aversion  for  everything  that  passed  for  Jansen- 
ism, and  made  them  so  dependent  upon  the  bishops 
that  they  began  to  be  considered  an  acquisition  in 
many  dioceses.  They  appeared  a  middle  party,  very 
useful  to  the  prelates;  who  equally  feared  the  Court, 
on  account  of  suspicions  of  doctrine,  and  the  Jesuits: 
for  as  soon  as  the  latter  had  insinuated  themselves 
into  the  good  graces  of  the  prelates,  they  imposed 
their  yoke  upon  them,  or  ruined  them  hopelessly;  thus 
the  Sulpicians  grew  apace.  None  amongst  them  could 
compare  in  any  way  with  the  Abbe  de  Fenelon;  so 
that  he  was  able  easily  to  play  first  fiddle,  and  to  make 
for  himself  protectors  who  were  interested  in  advanc- 
ing him,  in  order  that  they  might  be  protected  in  turn. 
His  piety,  which  was  all  things  to  all  men,  and  his 
doctrine  that  he  formed  upon  theirs  (abjuring,  as  it 
were,  in  whispers,  the  impurities  he  might  have  con- 
tracted amongst  those  he  had  abandoned) — the 
charms,  the  graces,  the  sweetness,  the  insinuation  of 
his  mind,  rendered  him  a  dear  friend  to  this  new 
congregation,  and  procured  for  him  what  he  had  long 
sought, — people  upon  whom  he  could  lean,  and  who 
could  and  would  serve.  Whilst  waiting  opportunities, 
he  carefully  courted  these  people,  without  thinking, 
however,  of  positively  joining  them,  his  views  being 
more  ambitious;  so  that  he  ever  sought  to  make  new 
acquaintances  and  friends.  His  was  a  coquettish 
mind,  which  from  people  the  most  influential  down 
to  the  workman  and  the  lackey  sought  appreciation 


ii4  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

and  was  determined  to  please;  and  his  talents  for  this 
work  perfectly  seconded  his  desires. 

At  this  time,  and  while  still  obscure,  he  heard  speak 
of  Madame  Guyon,  who  has  since  made  so  much  noise 
in  the  world,  and  who  is  too  well  known  to  need  that  I 
should  dwell  upon  her  here.  He  saw  her.  There  was 
an  interchange  of  pleasure  between  their  minds. 
Their  sublimes  amalgamated.  I  know  not  if  they 
understood  each  other  very  clearly  in  that  system,  and 
that  new  tongue  which  they  hatched  subsequently,  but 
they  persuaded  themselves  they  did,  and  friend- 
ship grew  up  between  them.  Although  more  known 
than  he,  Madame  Guyon  was  nevertheless  not  much 
known,  and  their  intimacy  was  not  perceived,  because 
nobody  thought  of  them;  Saint  Sulpice  even  was 
ignorant  of  what  was  going  on. 

The  Due  de  Beauvilliers  became  Governor  of  the 
children  of  France  almost  in  spite  of  himself,  without 
having  thought  of  it.  He  had  to  choose  a  preceptor 
for  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne.  He  ad- 
dressed himself  to  Saint  Sulpice,  where  for  a  long 
time  he  had  confessed,  for  he  liked  and  protected  it. 
He  had  heard  speak  of  Fenelon  with  eulogy :  the  Sul- 
picians  vaunted  his  piety,  his  intelligence,  his  knowl- 
edge, his  talents;  at  last  they  proposed  him  for  pre- 
ceptor. The  Due  de  Beauvilliers  saw  him,  was 
charmed  with  him,  and  appointed  him  to  the 
office. 

As  soon  as  installed,  Fenelon  saw  of  what  impor- 
tance it  would  be  to  gain  the  entire  favour  of  the  Due 
de  Beauvilliers,  and  of  his  brother-in-law  the  Due  de 
Chevreuse,  both  very  intimate  friends,  and  both  in  the 
highest  confidence  of  the  King  and  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon.  This  was  his  first  care,  and  he  succeeded  be- 
yond his  hopes,  becoming  the  master  of  their  hearts 
and    minds,    and    the    director    of   their    consciences. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  115 

Madame  de  Maintenon  dined  regularly  once  a  week 
at  the  house  of  one  or  other  of  the  two  Dukes, — fifth 
of  a  little  party,  composed  of  the  two  sisters  and  the 
two  husbands, — with  a  bell  upon  the  table,  in  order 
to  dispense  with  servants  in  waiting,  and  to  be  able  to 
talk  without  restraint.  Fenelon  was  at  last  admitted 
to  this  sanctuary,  at  foot  of  which  all  the  Court  was 
prostrated.  He  was  almost  as  successful  with  Madame 
de  Maintenon  as  he  had  been  with  the  two  Dukes. 
His  spirituality  enchanted  her :  the  Court  soon  per- 
ceived the  giant  strides  of  the  fortunate  Abbe,  and 
eagerly  courted  him.  But,  desiring  to  be  free  and  en- 
tirely devoted  to  his  great  object,  he  kept  himself  aloof 
from  their  flatteries — made  for  himself  a  shield  with 
his  modesty  and  his  duties  of  preceptor — and  thus 
rendered  himself  still  more  dear  to  the  persons  he  had 
captivated,  and  that  he  had  so  much  interest  in  retain- 
ing in  that  attachment. 

Among  these  cares  he  forgot  not  his  dear  Madame 
Guyon;  he  had  already  vaunted  her  to  the  two  Dukes 
and  to  Madame  de  Maintenon.  He  had  even  intro- 
duced her  to  them,  but  as  though  with  difficulty  and 
for  a  few  moments,  as  a  woman  all  in  God,  whose 
humility  and  whose  love  of  contemplation  and  solitude 
kept  her  within  the  strictest  limits,  and  whose  fear, 
above  all,  was  that  she  should  become  known.  The 
tone  of  her  mind  pleased  Madame  de  Maintenon  ex- 
tremely; her  reserve,  mixed  with  delicate  flatteries, 
won  upon  her.  Madame  de  Maintenon  wished  to  hear 
her  talk  upon  matters  of  piety;  with  difficulty  she  con- 
sented to  speak.  She  seemed  to  surrender  herself  to 
the  charms  and  to  the  virtue  of  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon, and  Madame  de  Maintenon  fell  into  the  nets 
so  skilfully  prepared   for  her. 

Such  was  the  situation  of  Fenelon  when  he  became 
Archbishop  of  Cambrai;  increasing  the  admiration  in 


n6  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

which  he  was  held  by  taking  no  step  to  gain  that  great 
benefice.  He  had  taken  care  not  to  seek  to  procure 
himself  Cambrai;  the  least  spark  of  ambition  would 
have  destroyed  all  his  edifice;  and,  moreover,  it  was 
not  Cambrai  that  he  coveted. 

Little  by  little  he  appropriated  to  himself  some  dis- 
tinguished sheep  of  the  small  flock  Madame  Guyon 
had  gathered  together.  He  only  conducted  them, 
however,  under  the  direction  of  that  prophet- 
ess, and  everything  passed  with  a  secrecy  and 
mystery  that  gave  additional  relish  to  the  manna 
distributed. 

Cambrai  was  a  thunderbolt  for  this  little  flock.  It 
was  the  archbishopric  of  Paris  they  wished.  Cam- 
brai they  looked  upon  with  disdain  as  a  country 
diocese,  the  residence  in  which  (impossible  to  avoid 
from  time  to  time)  would  deprive  them  of  their  pastor. 
Their  grief  was  then  profound  at  what  the  rest  of  the 
world  took  for  a  piece  of  amazing  luck,  and  the  Count- 
ess of  Guiche  was  so  affected  as  to  be  unable  to  hide 
her  tears.  The  new  prelate  had  not  neglected  such  of 
his  brethren  as  made  the  most  figure;  they,  in  turn, 
considered  it  a  distinction  to  command  his  regard. 
Saint  Cyr,  that  spot  so  valuable  and  so  inaccessible, 
was  the  place  chosen  for  his  consecration;  and  M.  de 
Meaux,  dictator  then  of  the  episcopacy  and  or  doc- 
trine, consecrated  him.  The  children  of  France  were 
among  the  spectators,  and  Madame  de  Maintenon  was 
present  with  her  little  court  of  familiars.  No  others 
were  invited;  the  doors  were  closed  to  those  who 
sought  to  pay  their  court. 

The  new  Archbishop  of  Cambrai,  gratified  with  his 
influence  over  Madame  de  Maintenon  and  with  the 
advantages  it  had  brought  him,  felt  that  unless  he 
became  completely  master  of  her,  the  hopes  he  still 
entertained  could  not  be  satisfied.     But  there  was  a 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  117 

rival  in  his  way — Godet,  Bishop  of  Chartres,  who  was 
much  in  the  confidence  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and 
had  long  discourses  with  her  at  Saint  Cyr.  As  he  was, 
however,  of  a  very  ill  figure,  had  but  little  support  at 
Court,  and  appeared  exceedingly  simple,  M.  de  Cam- 
brai  believed  he  could  easily  overthrow  him.  To  do 
this,  he  determined  to  make  use  of  Madame  Guyon, 
whose  new  spirituality  had  already  been  so  highly  rel- 
ished by  Madame  de  Maintenon.  He  persuaded  this 
latter  to  allow  Madame  Guyon  to  enter  Saint  Cyr, 
where  they  could  discourse  together  much  more  at 
their  ease  than  at  the  Hotel  de  Chevreuse  or  Beauvil- 
liers.  Madame  Guyon  went  accordingly  to  Saint  Cyr 
two  or  three  times.  Soon  after,  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon, who  relished  her  more  and  more,  made  her 
sleep  there,  and  their  meetings  grew  longer.  Madame 
Guyon  admitted  that  she  sought  persons  proper  to 
become  her  disciples,  and  in  a  short  time  she  formed 
a  little  flock,  whose  maxims  and  language  appeared 
very  strange  to  all  the  rest  of  the  house,  and,  above  all, 
to  M.  de  Chartres.  That  prelate  was  not  so  simple  as 
M.  de  Cambrai  imagined.  Profound  theologian  and 
scholar,  pious,  disinterested,  and  of  rare  probity,  he 
could  be,  if  necessary,  a  most  skilful  courtier;  but  he 
rarely  exerted  this  power,  for  the  favour  of  Madame 
de  Maintenon  sufficed  him  of  itself.  As  soon  as  he  got 
scent  of  this  strange  doctrine,  he  caused  two  ladies, 
upon  whom  he  could  count,  to  be  admitted  to  Saint 
Cyr,  as  if  to  become  disciples  of  Madame  Guyon. 
He  gave  them  full  instructions,  and  they  played  their 
parts  to  perfection.  In  the  first  place  they  appeared 
to  be  ravished,  and  by  degrees  enchanted,  with  the 
new  doctrine.  Madame  Guyon,  pleased  with  this 
fresh  conquest,  took  the  ladies  into  her  most  intimate 
confidence  in  order  to  gain  them  entirely.  They  com- 
municated everything  to  M.  de  Chartres,  who  quietly 


u8  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

looked  on,  allowed  things  to  take  their  course,  and, 
when  he  believed  the  right  moment  had  arrived,  dis- 
closed all  he  had  learnt  to  Madame  de  Maintenon. 
She  was  strangely  surprised  when  she  saw  the  extraor- 
dinary drift  of  the  new  doctrine.  Troubled  and  un- 
certain, she  consulted  with  M.  de  Cambrai,  who,  not 
suspecting  she  had  been  so  well  instructed,  became, 
when  he  discovered  it,  embarrassed,  and  thus  aug- 
mented her  suspicions. 

Suddenly  Madame  Guyon  was  driven  away  from 
Saint  Cyr,  and  prohibited  from  spreading  her  doctrine 
elsewhere.  But  the  admiring  disciples  she  had  made 
still  gathered  round  her  in  secret,  and  this  becoming 
known,  she  was  ordered  to  leave  Paris.  She  feigned 
obedience,  but  in  effect  went  no  further  than  the  Fau- 
bourg Saint  Antoine,  where,  with  great  secrecy,  she 
continued  to  receive  her  flock.  But  being  again  de- 
tected, she  was  sent,  without  further  parley,  to  the 
Bastille,  well  treated  there,  but  allowed  to  see  nobody, 
not  even  to  write.  Before  being  arrested,  however, 
she  had  been  put  into  the  hands  of  M.  de  Meaux,  who 
used  all  his  endeavours  to  change  her  sentiments. 
Tired  at  last  of  his  sermons,  she  feigned  conviction, 
signed  a  recantation  of  her  opinions,  and  was  set  at 
liberty.  Yet,  directly  after,  she  held  her  secret  as- 
semblies in  the  Faubourg  Saint  Antoine,  and  it  was  in 
consequence  of  this  abuse  of  freedom  that  she  was 
arrested.  These  adventures  bring  me  far  into 
the  year  1696,  and  the  sequel  extends  into  the  fol- 
lowing year.  Let  us  finish  this  history  at  once, 
and  return  afterwards  to  what  happened  mean- 
while. 

Monsieur  de  Cambrai,  stunned  but  not  overpowered 
by  the  reverse  he  had  sustained,  and  by  his  loss  of 
favour  with  Madame  de  Maintenon,  stood  firm  in  his 
stirrups.    After  Madame  Guyon's  abuse  of  her  liberty, 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  119 

and  the  conferences  of  Issy,  he  bethought  himself  of 
confessing  to  M.  de  Meaux,  by  which  celebrated  trick 
he  hoped  to  close  that  prelate's  mouth.  These  cir- 
cumstances induced  M.  de  Meaux  to  take  pen  in  hand, 
in  order  to  expose  to  the  public  the  full  account  of 
this  affair,  and  of  Madame  Guyon's  doctrine;  and  he 
did  so  in  a  work  under  the  title  of  Instruction  sur  les 
Etats  d'Oraison. 

While  the  book  was  yet  unpublished,  M.  de  Cam- 
brai  was  shown  a  copy.  He  saw  at  once  the  necessity 
of  writing  another  to  ward  off  the  effect  of  such  a 
blow.  He  must  have  had  a  great  deal  of  matter 
already  prepared,  otherwise  the  diligence  he  used 
would  be  incredible.  Before  M.  de  Meaux's  book  was 
ready,  M.  de  Cambrai's,  entitled  Maximes  des 
Saints,  was  published  and  distributed.  M.  de  Che- 
vreuse,  who  corrected  the  proofs,  installed  himself  at 
the  printer's,  so  as  to  see  every  sheet  as  soon  as 
printed. 

This  book,  written  in  the  strangest  manner,  did  M. 
de  Cambrai  little  service.  If  people  were  offended  to 
find  it  supported  upon  no  authority,  they  were  much 
more  so  with  its  confused  and  embarrassed  style,  its 
precision  so  restrained  and  so  decided,  its  barbarous 
terms  which  seemed  as  though  taken  from  a  foreign 
tongue, — above  all,  its  high-flown  and  far-fetched 
thoughts,  which  took  one's  breath  away,  as  in  the  too 
subtle  air  of  the  middle  region.  Nobody,  except  the 
theologians,  understood  it,  and  even  they  not  without 
reading  it  three  or  four  times.  Connoisseurs  found  in 
it  a  pure  Quietism,  which,  although  wrapped  up  in  fine 
language,  was  clearly  visible.  I  do  not  give  my  own 
judgment  of  things  so  much  beyond  me,  but  repeat 
what  was  said  everywhere.  Nothing  else  was  talked 
about,  even  by  the  ladies;  and  a  propos  of  this,  the 
saying  of  Madame  de  Sevigne  was  revived :  "  Make 


120  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

religion  a  little  more  palpable;  it  evaporates  by  dint 
of  being  over-refined." 

Not  a  word  was  heard  in  praise  of  the  book ;  every- 
body was  opposed  to  it,  and  it  was  the  means  of  mak- 
ing Madame  de  Maintenon  more  unfavourable  to  M. 
de  Cambrai  than  ever.  He  sent  the  King  a  copy, 
without  informing  her.  This  completed  her  annoy- 
ance against  him.  M.  de  Cambrai,  finding  his  book 
so  ill-received  by  the  Court  and  by  the  prelates,  de- 
termined to  try  and  support  it  on  the  authority  of 
Rome,  a  step  quite  opposed  to  our  manners.  In  the 
mean  time,  M.  de  Meaux's  book  appeared  in  two  vol- 
umes octavo,  well  written,  clear,  modest,  and  sup- 
ported upon  the  authority  of  the  Scriptures.  It  was 
received  with  avidity,  and  absolutely  devoured.  There 
was  not  a  person  at  the  Court  who  did  not  take  a 
pleasure  in  reading  it,  so  that  for  a  long  time  it  was 
the  common  subject  of  conversation  of  the  Court  and 
of  the  town. 

These  two  books,  so  opposed  in  doctrine  and  in 
style,  made  such  a  stir  on  every  side  that  the  King 
interposed,  and  forced  M.  de  Cambrai  to  submit  his 
work  to  an  examination  by  a  council  of  prelates, 
whom  he  named.  M.  de  Cambrai  asked  permission  to 
go  to  Rome  to  defend  his  cause  in  person,  but  this  the 
King  refused.  He  sent  his  book,  therefore,  to  the 
Pope,  and  had  the  annoyance  to  receive  a  dry,  cold 
reply,  and  to  see  M.  de  Meaux's  book  triumph.  His 
good  fortune  was  in  effect  at  an  end.  He  remained 
at  Court  some  little  time,  but  the  King  was  soon 
irritated  against  him,  sent  him  off  post-haste  to  Paris, 
and  from  there  to  his  diocese,  whence  he  has  never 
returned.  He  left  behind  him  a  letter  for  one  of  his 
friends,  M.  de  Chevreuse  it  was  generally  believed, 
which  immediately  after  became  public.  It  appeared 
like  the  manifesto  of  a  man  who  disgorges  his  bile  and 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  121 

restrains  himself  no  more,  because  he  has  nothing 
more  to  hope.  The  letter,  bold  and  bitter  in  style,  was 
besides  so  full  of  ability  and  artifice,  that  it  was  ex- 
tremely pleasant  to  read,  without  finding  approvers; 
so  true  it  is  that  a  wise  and  disdainful  silence  is  diffi- 
cult to  keep  under  reverses. 


CHAPTER  IX 

TO  return  now  to  the  date  from  which  I  started. 
On  the  6th  of  August,  1695,  Harlay,  Arch- 
bishop of  Paris,  died  of  epilepsy  at  Conflans. 
He  was  a  prelate  of  profound  knowledge  and  ability, 
very  amiable,  and  of  most  gallant  manners.  For  some 
time  past  he  had  lost  favour  with  the  King  and  with 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  for  opposing  the  declaration 
of  her  marriage — of  which  marriage  he  had  been  one 
of  the  three  witnesses.  The  clergy,  who  perceived 
his  fall,  and  to  whom  envy  is  not  unfamiliar,  took 
pleasure  in  revenging  themselves  upon  M.  de  Paris, 
for  the  domination,  although  gentle  and  kindly,  he 
had  exercised.  Unaccustomed  to  this  decay  of  his 
power,  all  the  graces  of  his  mind  and  body  withered. 
He  could  find  no  resource  but  to  shut  himself  up  with 
his  dear  friend  the  Duchesse  de  Lesdiguieres,  whom 
he  saw  every  day  of  his  life,  either  at  her  own  house 
or  at  Conflans,  where  he  had  laid  out  a  delicious  gar- 
den, kept  so  strictly  clean,  that  as  the  two  walked, 
gardeners  followed  at  a  distance,  and  effaced  their 
footprints  with  rakes.  The  vapours  seized  the  Arch- 
bishop, and  turned  themselves  into  slight  attacks  of 
epilepsy.  He  felt  this,  but  prohibited  his  servants  to 
send  for  help,  when  they  should  see  him  attacked;  and 
he  was  only  too  well  obeyed.  The  Duchesse  de 
Lesdiguieres  never  slept  at  Conflans,  but  she  went 
there  every  afternoon,  and  was  always  alone  with  him. 
On  the  6th  of  August,  he  passed  the  morning,  as 
usual,  until  dinner-time;  his  steward  came  there  to 
him,  and  found  him  in  his  cabinet,  fallen  back  upon 

122 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  123 

a  sofa;  he  was  dead.  The  celebrated  Jesuit-Father 
Gaillard  preached  his  funeral  sermon,  and  carefully 
eluded  pointing  the  moral  of  the  event.  The  King 
and  Madame  de  Maintenon  were  much  relieved  by 
the  loss  of  M.  de  Paris.  Various  places  he  had  held 
were  at  once  distributed.  His  archbishopric  and  his 
nomination  to  the  cardinalship  required  more  discus- 
sion. The  King  learnt  the  news  of  the  death  of  M. 
de  Paris  on  the  6th.  On  the  8th,  in  going  as  usual 
to  his  cabinet,  he  went  straight  up  to  the  Bishop  of 
Orleans,  led  him  to  the  Cardinals  de  Bouillon  and  de 
Fursternberg,  and  said  to  them : — "  Gentlemen,  I  think 
you  will  thank  me  for  giving  you  an  associate  like 
M.  d'Orleans,  to  whom  I  give  my  nomination  to  the 
cardinalship."  At  this  word  the  Bishop,  who  little 
expected  such  a  scene,  fell  at  the  King's  feet  and  em- 
braced his  knees.  He  was  a  man  whose  face  spoke  at 
once  of  the  virtue  and  benignity  he  possessed.  In 
youth  he  was  so  pious,  that  young  and  old  were  afraid 
to  say  a  foul  word  in  his  presence.  Although  very 
rich,  he  appropriated  scarcely  any  of  his  wealth  to 
himself,  but  gave  it  away  for  good  works.  The 
modesty  and  the  simplicity  with  which  M.  d'Orleans 
sustained  his  nomination,  increased  the  universal 
esteem  in  which  he  was  held. 

The  archbishopric  of  Paris  was  given  to  a  brother 
of  the  Due  de  Noailles — the  Bishop  of  Chalons-sur- 
Marne — M.  de  Noailles  thus  reaping  the  fruit  of  his 
wise  sacrifice  to  M.  de  Vendome,  before  related.  M. 
de  Chalons  was  of  singular  goodness  and  modesty. 
He  did  not  wish  for  this  preferment,  and  seeing  from 
far  the  prospect  of  its  being  given  to  him,  hastened  to 
declare  himself  against  the  Jesuits,  in  the  expectation 
that  Pere  la  Chaise,  who  was  of  them,  and  who  was 
always  consulted  upon  these  occasions,  might  oppose 
him.    But  it  happened,  perhaps  for  the  first  time,  that 


124  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

Madame  de  Maintenon,  who  felt  restrained  by  the 
Jesuits,  did  not  consult  Pere  la  Chaise,  and  the  prefer- 
ment was  made  without  his  knowledge,  and  without 
that  of  M.  de  Chalons.  The  affront  was  a  violent  one, 
and  the  Jesuits  never  forgave  the  new  Archbishop :  he 
was,  however,  so  little  anxious  for  the  office,  that  it 
was  only  after  repeated  orders  he  could  be  made  to 
accept  it. 

The  Bishop  of  Langres  also  died  about  this  time. 
He  was  a  true  gentleman,  much  liked,  and  called  "  the 
good  Langres."  There  was  nothing  bad  about  him, 
except  his  manners;  he  was  not  made  for  a  bishop' — 
gambled  very  much,  and  staked  high.  M.  de 
Vendome  and  others  won  largely  at  billiards  of  him, 
two  or  three  times.  He  said  no  word,  but,  on  return- 
ing to  Langres,  did  nothing  but  practise  billiards  in 
secret  for  six  months.  When  next  in  Paris,  he  was 
again  asked  to  play,  and  his  adversaries,  who  thought 
him  as  unskilful  as  before,  expected  an  easy  victory : 
but,  to  their  astonishment,  he  gained  almost  every 
game,  won  back  much  more  than  he  had  lost,  and  then 
laughed  in  the  faces  of  his  companions. 

I  paid  about  this  time,  my  first  journey  to  Marly, 
and  a  singular  scene  happened  there.  The  King  at 
dinner,  setting  aside  his  usual  gravity,  laughed  and 
joked  very  much  with  Madame  la  Duchesse,  eating 
olives  with  her  in  sport,  and  thereby  causing  her  to 
drink  more  than  usual — which  he  also  pretended  to  do. 
Upon  rising  from  the  table  the  King,  seeing  the  Prin- 
cesse  de  Conti  look  extremely  serious,  said,  dryly,  that 
her  gravity  did  not  accommodate  itself  to  their  drunk- 
enness. The  Princess,  piqued,  allowed  the  King  to 
pass  without  saying  anything;  and  then,  turning  to 
Madame  de  Chatillon,  said,  in  the  midst  of  the  noise, 
whilst  everybody  was  washing  his  mouth,  that  she 
"  would  rather  be  grave  than  be  a  wine-sack  "  (allud- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  125 

ing  to  some  bouts  a  little  prolonged  that  her  sister  had 
recently  had). 

The  saying  was  heard  by  the  Duchesse  de  Chartres, 
who  replied,  loud  enough  to  be  heard,  in  her  slow  and 
trembling  voice,  that  she  preferred  to  be  a  "  wine- 
sack  "  rather  than  a  "  rag-sack  "  (sac  a  guenilles) — 
by  which  she  alluded  to  the  Clermont  and  La  Choin 
adventure  I  have  related  before. 

This  remark  was  so  cruel  that  it  met  with  no  reply; 
it  spread  through  Marly,  and  thence  to  Paris;  and 
Madame  la  Duchesse,  who  had  the  art  of  writing  witty 
songs,  made  one  upon  this  theme.  The  Princesse  de 
Conti  was  in  despair,  for  she  had  not  the  same  weapon 
at  her  disposal.  Monsieur  tried  to  reconcile  them — 
gave  them  a  dinner  at  Meudon — but  they  returned 
from  it  as  they  went. 

The  end  of  the  year  was  stormy  at  Marly.  One 
evening,  after  the  King  had  gone  to  bed,  and  while 
Monseigneur  was  playing  in  the  saloon,  the  Duchesse 
de  Chartres  and  Madame  la  Duchesse  (who  were 
bound  together  by  their  mutual  aversion  to  the  Prin- 
cesse de  Conti)  sat  down  to  a  supper  in  the  chamber 
of  the  first-named.  Monseigneur,  upon  retiring  late 
to  his  own  room,  found  them  smoking  with  pipes, 
which  they  had  sent  for  from  the  Swiss  Guards! 
Knowing  what  would  happen  if  the  smell  were  dis- 
covered, he  made  them  leave  off,  but  the  smoke  had 
betrayed  them.  The  King  next  day  severely  scolded 
them,  at  which  the  Princesse  de  Conti  triumphed. 
Nevertheless,  these  broils  multiplied,  and  the  King  at 
last  grew  so  weary  of  them  that  one  evening  he  called 
the  Princesses  before  him,  and  threatened  that  if  they 
did  not  improve  he  would  banish  them  all  from  the 
Court.  The  measure  had  its  effect;  calm  and  decorum 
returned,  and  supplied  the  place  of  friendship. 

There    were    many    marriages    this    winter,    and 


126  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

amongst  them  one  very  strange — a  marriage  of  love, 
between  a  brother  of  Feuquiere's,  who  had  never  done 
much,  and  the  daughter  of  the  celebrated  Mignard, 
first  painter  of  his  time.  This  daughter  was  still  so 
beautiful,  that  Bloin,  chief  valet  of  the  King,  had  kept 
her  for  some  time,  with  the  knowledge  of  every  one, 
and  used  his  influence  to  make  the  King  sign  the  mar- 
riage-contract. 

There  are  in  all  Courts  persons  who,  without  wit 
and  without  distinguished  birth,  without  patrons,  or 
service  rendered,  pierce  into  the  intimacy  of  the  most 
brilliant,  and  succeed  at  last,  I  know  not  how,  in 
forcing  the  world  to  look  upon  them  as  somebody. 
Such  a  person  was  Cavoye.  Rising  from  nothing,  he 
became  Grand  Marechal  des  Logis  in  the  royal  house- 
hold :  he  arrived  at  that  office  by  a  perfect  romance. 
He  was  one  of  the  best  made  men  in  France,  and  was 
much  in  favour  with  the  ladies.  He  first  appeared 
at  the  Court  at  a  time  when  much  duelling  was  taking 
place,  in  spite  of  the  edicts.  Cavoye,  brave  and  skil- 
ful, acquired  so  much  reputation  in  this  particular, 
that  the  name  of  "  Brave  Cavoye  "  has  stuck  to  him 
ever  since.  An  ugly  but  very  good  creature,  Made- 
moiselle de  Coetlogon,  one  of  the  Queen's  waiting- 
women,  fell  in  love  with  him,  even  to  madness.  She 
made  all  the  advances;  but  Cavoye  treated  her  so 
cruelly,  nay,  sometimes  so  brutally,  that  (wonderful 
to  say)  everybody  pitied  her,  and  the  King  at  last 
interfered,  and  commanded  him  to  be  more  humane. 
Cavoye  went  to  the  army;  the  poor  Coetlogon  was  in 
tears  until  his  return.  In  the  winter,  for  being  second 
in  a  duel,  he  was  sent  to  the  Bastille.  Then  the  grief 
of  Coetlogon  knew  no  bounds :  she  threw  aside  all 
ornaments,  and  clad  herself  as  meanly  as  possible;  she 
begged  the  King  to  grant  Cavoye  his  liberty,  and,  upon 
the   King's   refusing,   quarrelled   with  him  violently, 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  127 

and  when  in  return  he  laughed  at  her,  became  so 
furious,  that  she  would  have  used  her  nails,  had  he 
not  been  too  wise  to  expose  himself  to  them.  Then 
she  refused  to  attend  to  her  duties,  would  not  serve 
the  King,  saying,  that  he  did  not  deserve  it,  and  grew 
so  yellow  and  ill,  that  at  last  she  was  allowed  to  visit 
her  lover  at  the  Bastille.  When  he  was  liberated,  her 
joy  was  extreme,  she  decked  herself  out  anon,  but  it 
was  with  difficulty  that  she  consented  to  be  reconciled 
to  the  King. 

Cavoye  had  many  times  been  promised  an  appoint- 
ment, but  had  never  received  one  such  as  he  wished. 
The  office  of  Grand  Marechal  des  Logis  had  just  be- 
come vacant :  the  King  offered  it  to  Cavoye,  but  on 
condition  that  he  should  marry  Mademoiselle  Coetlo- 
gon.  Cavoye  sniffed  a  little  longer,  but  was  obliged 
to  submit  to  this  condition  at  last.  They  were  mar- 
ried, and  she  has  still  the  same  admiration  for  him, 
and  it  is  sometimes  fine  fun  to  see  the  caresses  she 
gives  him  before  all  the  world,  and  the  constrained 
gravity  with  which  he  receives  them.  The  history  of 
Cavoye  would  fill  a  volume,  but  this  I  have  selected 
suffices  for  its  singularity,  which  assuredly  is  without 
example. 

About  this  time  the  King  of  England  thought  mat- 
ters were  ripe  for  an  attempt  to  reinstate  himself  upon 
the  throne.  The  Duke  of  Berwick  had  been  secretly 
into  England,  where  he  narrowly  escaped  being  ar- 
rested, and  upon  his  report  these  hopes  were  built. 
Great  preparations  were  made,  but  they  came  to  noth- 
ing, as  was  always  the  case  with  the  projects  of  this 
unhappy  prince. 

Madame  de  Guise  died  at  this  time.  Her  father 
was  the  brother  of  Louis  XIII.,  and  she,  humpbacked 
and  deformed  to  excess,  had  married  the  last  Due  de 
Guise,  rather  than  not  marry  at  all.    During  all  their 


128  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

lives,  she  compelled  him  to  pay  her  all  the  deference 
due  to  her  rank.  At  table  he  stood  while  she  unfolded 
her  napkin  and  seated  herself,  and  did  not  sit  until  she 
told  him  to  do  so,  and  then  at  the  end  of  the  table. 
This  form  was  observed  every  day  of  their  lives.  She 
was  equally  severe  in  such  matters  of  etiquette  with 
all  the  rest  of  the  world.  She  would  keep  her 
diocesan,  the  Bishop  of  Seez,  standing  for  entire 
hours,  while  she  was  seated  in  her  arm-chair  and  never 
once  offered  him  a  seat  even  in  the  corner.  She  was  in 
other  things  an  entirely  good  and  sensible  woman. 
Not  until  after  her  death  was  it  discovered  that  she 
had  been  afflicted  for  a  long  time  with  a  cancer,  which 
appeared  as  though  about  to  burst.  God  spared  her 
this  pain. 

We  lost,  in  the  month  of  March,  Madame  de  Mira- 
mion,  aged  sixty-six.  She  was  a  bourgeoise,  married, 
and  in  the  same  year  became  a  widow— very  rich, 
young,  and  beautiful.  Bussy  Rabutin,  so  known  by 
his  Histoire  Amour euse  des  Gaitles,  and  by  the  pro- 
found disgrace  it  drew  upon  him,  and  still  more  by 
the  vanity  of  his  mind  and  the  baseness  of  his  heart, 
wished  absolutely  to  marry  her,  and  actually  carried 
her  off  to  a  chateau.  Upon  arriving  at  the  place,  she 
pronounced  before  everybody  assembled  there  a  vow 
of  chastity,  and  then  dared  Bussy  to  do  his  worst. 
He,  strangely  discomfited  by  this  action,  at  once  set 
her  at  liberty,  and  tried  to  accommodate  the  affair. 
From  that  moment  she  devoted  herself  entirely  to 
works  of  piety,  and  was  much  esteemed  by  the  King. 
She  was  the  first  woman  of  her  condition  who  wrote 
above  her  door,  "  Hotel  de  Nesmond."  Everybody 
cried  out,  and  was  scandalised,  but  the  writing  re- 
mained, and  became  the  example  and  the  father  of 
those  of  all  kinds  which  little  by  little  have  inundated 
Paris. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  129 

Madame  de  Sevigne,  so  amiable  and  of  such  ex- 
cellent company,  died  some  time  after  at  Grignan,  at 
the  house  of  her  daughter,  her  idol,  but  who  merited 
little  to  be  so.  I  was  very  intimate  with  the  young 
Marquis  de  Grignan,  her  grandson.  This  woman,  by 
her  natural  graces,  the  sweetness  of  her  wit,  communi- 
cated these  qualities  to  those  who  had  them  not;  she 
was  besides  extremely  good,  and  knew  thoroughly 
many  things  without  ever  wishing  to  appear  as  though 
she  knew  anything. 

Father  Seraphin  preached  during  Lent  this  year  at 
the  Court.  His  sermons,  in  which  he  often  repeated 
twice  running  the  same  phrase,  were  much  in  vogue. 
It  was  from  him  that  came  the  saying,  "  Without  God 
there  is  no  wit."  The  King  was  much  pleased  with 
him,  and  reproached  M.  de  Vendome  and  M.  de  la 
Rochefoucauld  because  they  never  went  to  hear  his 
sermons.  M.  de  Vendome  replied  off-hand,  that  he 
did  not  care  to  go  to  hear  a  man  who  said  whatever 
he  pleased  without  allowing  anybody  to  reply  to  him, 
and  made  the  King  smile  by  this  sally.  But  M.  de  la 
Rochefoucauld  treated  the  matter  in  another  manner: 
he  said  that  he  could  not  induce  himself  to  go  like  the 
merest  hanger-on  about  the  Court,  and  beg  a  seat  of 
the  officer  who  distributed  them,  and  then  betake  him- 
self early  to  church  in  order  to  have  a  good  one,  and 
wait  about  in  order  to  put  himself  where  it  might 
please  that  officer  to  place  him.  Whereupon  the  King 
immediately  gave  him  a  fourth  seat  behind  him,  by  the 
side  of  the  Grand  Chamberlain,  so  that  everywhere  he 
is  thus  placed.  M.  d'Orleans  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
seating  himself  there  (although  his  right  place  was  on 
the  prie-Dieu),  and  little  by  little  had  accustomed  him- 
self to  consider  it  as  his  proper  place.  When  he  found 
himself  driven  away,  he  made  a  great  ado,  and,  not 
daring  to  complain  to  the  King,  quarrelled  with  M.  de 


130  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

la  Rochefoucauld,  who,  until  then,  had  been  one  of 
his  particular  friends.  The  affair  soon  made  a  great 
stir;  the  friends  of  both  parties  mixed  themselves  up  in 
it.  The  King  tried  in  vain  to  make  M.  d'Orleans  listen 
to  reason;  the  prelate  was  inflexible,  and  when  he 
found  he  could  gain  nothing  by  clamour  and  com- 
plaint, he  retired  in  high  dudgeon  into  his  diocese :  he 
remained  there  some  time,  and  upon  his  return  re- 
sumed his  complaints  with  more  determination  than 
ever;  he  fell  at  the  feet  of  the  King,  protesting  that 
he  would  rather  die  than  see  his  office  degraded.  M. 
de  la  Rochefoucauld  entreated  the  King  to  be  allowed 
to  surrender  the  seat  in  favour  of  M.  d'Orleans.  But 
the  King  would  not  change  his  decision;  he  said  that 
if  the  matter  were  to  be  decided  between  M.  d'Orleans 
and  a  lackey,  he  would  give  the  seat  to  the  lackey 
rather  than  to  M.  d'Orleans.  Upon  this  the  prelate 
returned  to  his  diocese,  which  he  would  have  been 
wiser  never  to  have  quitted  in  order  to  obtain  a  place 
which  did  not  belong  to  him. 

As  the  King  really  esteemed  M.  d'Orleans,  he  deter- 
mined to  appease  his  anger;  and  to  put  an  end  to  this 
dispute  he  gave  therefore  the  bishopric  of  Metz  to  the 
nephew  of  M.  d'Orleans;  and  by  this  means  a  recon- 
ciliation was  established.  M.  d'Orleans  and  M.  de  la 
Rochefoucauld  joined  hands  again,  and  the  King 
looked  on  delighted. 

The  public  lost  soon  after  a  man  illustrious  by  his 
genius,  by  his  style,  and  by  his  knowledge  of  men, — 
I  mean  La  Bruyere,  who  died  of  apoplexy  at  Ver- 
sailles, after  having  surpassed  Theophrastus  in  his 
own  manner,  and  after  painting,  in  the  new  characters, 
the  men  of  our  days  in  a  manner  inimitable.  He  was 
besides  a  very  honest  man,  of  excellent  breeding, 
simple,  very  disinterested,  and  without  anything  of 
the  pedant.    I  had  sufficiently  known  him  to  regret  his 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  131 

death,  and  the  works  that  might  have  been  hoped  from 
him. 

The  command  of  the  armies  was  distributed  in  the 
same  manner  as  before,  with  the  exception  that  M.  de 
Choiseul  had  the  army  of  the  Rhine  in  place  of  M.  de 
Lorges.  Every  one  set  out  to  take  the  field.  The 
Due  de  la  Feuillade  in  passing  by  Metz,  to  join  the 
army  in  Germany,  called  upon  his  uncle,  who  was  very 
rich  and  in  his  second  childhood.  La  Feuillade 
thought  fit  to  make  sure  of  his  uncle's  money  before- 
hand, demanded  the  key  of  the  cabinet  and  of  the 
coffers,  broke  them  open  upon  being  refused  by  the 
servants,  and  took  away  thirty  thousand  crowns  in 
gold,  and  many  jewels,  leaving  untouched  the  silver. 
The  King,  who  for  a  long  time  had  been  much  dis- 
contented with  La  Feuillade  for  his  debauches  and  his 
negligence,  spoke  very  strongly  and  very  openly  upon 
this  strange  forestalling  of  inheritance.  It  was  only 
with  great  difficulty  he  could  be  persuaded  not  to  strip 
La  Feuillade  of  his  rank. 

Our  campaign  was  undistinguished  by  any  striking 
event.  From  June  to  September  of  this  year  (1696), 
we  did  little  but  subsist  and  observe,  after  which  we 
recrossed  the  Rhine  at  Philipsburg,  where  our  rear 
guard  was  slightly  inconvenienced  by  the  enemy.  In 
Italy  there  was  more  movement.  The  King  sought 
to  bring  about  peace  by  dividing  the  forces  of  his  ene- 
mies, and  secretly  entered  into  a  treaty  with  Savoy. 
The  conditions  were,  that  every  place  belonging  to 
Savoy  which  had  been  taken  by  our  troops  should  be 
restored,  and  that  a  marriage  should  take  place  be- 
tween Monseigneur  the  Due  de  Bonrgogne  and  the 
daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Savoy,  when  she  became 
twelve  years  of  age.  In  the  mean  time  she  was  to  be 
sent  to  the  Court  of  France,  and  preparations  were  at 
once  made  there  to  provide  her  with  a  suitable  estab- 
lishment. ,r      .       ^ 

,-  ,    , ,  Memoirs — h 

\  ol.  11 


132  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

The  King  was  ill  with  an  anthrax  in  the  throat. 
The  eyes  of  all  Europe  were  turned  towards  him,  for 
his  malady  was  not  without  danger;  nevertheless  in 
his  bed  he  affected  to  attend  to  affairs  as  usual ;  and  he 
arranged  there  with  Madame  de  Maintenon,  who 
scarcely  ever  quitted  his  side,  the  household  of  the 
Savoy  Princess.  The  persons  selected  for  the  offices 
in  that  household  were  either  entirely  devoted  to 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  or  possessed  of  so  little  wit 
that  she  had  nothing  to  fear  from  them.  A  selection 
which  excited  much  envy  and  great  surprise  was  that 
of  the  Duchesse  de  Lude  to  be  lady  of  honour.  The 
day  before  she  was  appointed,  Monsieur  had  men- 
tioned her  name  in  sport  to  the  King.  "  Yes,"  said 
the  King,  "  she  would  be  the  best  woman  in  the  world 
to  teach  the  Princess  to  put  rouge  and  patches  on  her 
cheek;  "  and  then,  being  more  devout  than  usual,  he 
said  other  things  as  bitter  and  marking  strong  aversion 
on  his  part  to  the  Duchess.  In  fact,  she  was  no 
favourite  of  his  nor  of  Madame  de  Maintenon;  and 
this  was  so  well  understood  that  the  surprise  of 
Monsieur  and  of  everybody  else  was  great,  upon  find- 
ing, the  day  after  this  discourse,  that  she  had  been 
appointed  to  the  place. 

The  cause  of  this  was  soon  learnt.  The  Duchesse 
de  Lude  coveted  much  to  be  made  lady  of  honour  to 
the  Princess,  but  knew  she  had  but  little  chance,  so 
many  others  more  in  favour  than  herself  being  in  the 
field.  Madame  de  Maintenon  had  an  old  servant 
named  Nanon,  who  had  been  with  her  from  the  time 
of  her  early  days  of  misery,  and  who  had  such  influ- 
ence with  her,  that  this  servant  was  made  much  of  by 
everybody  at  Court,  even  by  the  ministers  and  the 
daughters  of  the  King.  The  Duchesse  de  Lude  had 
also  an  old  servant  who  was  on  good  terms  with  the 
other.     The  affair  therefore  was  not  difficult.     The 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  133 

Duchesse  de  Lude  sent  twenty  thousand  crowns  to 
Nanon,  and  on  the  very  evening  of  the  day  on  which 
the  King  had  spoken  to  Monsieur,  she  had  the  place. 
Thus  it  is !  A  Nanon  sells  the  most  important  and  the 
most  brilliant  offices,  and  a  Duchess  of  high  birth  is 
silly  enough  to  buy  herself  into  servitude! 

This  appointment  excited  much  envy.  The  Mare- 
chale  de  Roche  fort,  who  had  expected  to  be  named, 
made  a  great  ado.  Madame  de  Maintenon,  who  de- 
spised her,  was  piqued,  and  said  that  she  should  have 
had  it  but  for  the  conduct  of  her  daughter.  This  was 
a  mere  artifice;  but  the  daughter  was,  in  truth,  no 
sample  of  purity.  She  had  acted  in  such  a  manner 
with  Blansac  that  he  was  sent  for  from  the  army  to 
marry  her,  and  on  the  very  night  of  their  wedding  she 
gave  birth  to  a  daughter.  She  was  full  of  wit, 
vivacity,  intrigue,  and  sweetness;  yet  most  wicked, 
false,  and  artificial,  and  all  this  with  a  simplicity  of 
manner  that  imposed  even  upon  those  who  knew  her 
best.  More  than  gallant  while  her  face  lasted,  she 
afterwards  was  easier  of  access,  and  at  last  ruined 
herself  for  the  meanest  valets.  Yet,  notwithstanding 
her  vices,  she  was  the  prettiest  flower  of  the  Court 
bunch,  and  had  her  chamber  always  full  of  the  best 
company :  she  was  also  much  sought  after  by  the 
three  daughters  of  the  King.  Driven  away  from  the 
Court,  she  was  after  much  supplication  recalled,  and 
pleased  the  King  so  much  that  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
in  fear  of  her,  sent  her  away  again.  But  to  go  back 
again  to  the  household  of  the  Princess  of  Savoy. 

Dangeau  was  made  chevalier  d'honneur.  He  owed 
his  success  to  his  good  looks,  to  the  court  he  paid  to 
the  King's  mistresses,  to  his  skil fulness  at  play,  and 
to  a  lucky  stroke  of  fortune.  The  King  had  often- 
times been  importuned  to  give  him  a  lodging,  and  one 
day,  joking  with  him  upon  his  fancy  of  versifying, 


134  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

proposed  to  him  some  very  hard  rhymes,  and  promised 
him  a  lodging  if  he  filled  them  up  upon  the  spot. 
Dangeau  accepted,  thought  but  for  a  moment,  per- 
formed the  task,  and  thus  gained  his  lodging.  He  was 
an  old  friend  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  it  was  to 
her  he  was  indebted  for  his  post  of  chevalier  d'honneur 
in  the  new  household. 

Madame  d'O  was  appointed  lady  of  the  palace.  Her 
father,  named  Guilleragues,  a  gluttonous  Gascon,  had 
been  one  of  the  intimate  friends  of  Madame  Scarron, 
who,  as  Madame  de  Maintenon,  did  not  forget  her 
old  acquaintance,  but  procured  him  the  embassy  to 
Constantinople.  Dying  there,  he  left  an  only  daughter, 
who,  on  the  voyage  home  to  France,  gained  the  heart 
of  Villers,  lieutenant  of  the  vessel,  and  became  his  wife 
in  Asia-Minor,  near  the  ruins  of  Troy.  Villers 
claimed  to  be  of  the  house  of  d'O;  hence  the  name  his 
wife  bore. 

Established  at  the  Court,  the  newly-married  couple 
quickly  worked  themselves  into  the  favour  of  Madame 
de  Maintenon,  both  being  very  clever  in  intrigue.  M. 
d'O  was  made  governor  of  the  Comte  de  Toulouse, 
and  soon  gained  his  entire  confidence.  Madame  d'O, 
too,  infinitely  pleased  the  young  Count,  just  then  en- 
tering upon  manhood,  by  her  gallantry,  her  wit,  and 
the  facilities  she  allowed  him.  Both,  in  consequence, 
grew  in  great  esteem  with  the  King.  Had  they  been 
attendants  upon  Princes  of  the  blood,  he  would  as- 
suredly have  slighted  them.  But  he  always  showed 
great  indulgence  to  those  who  served  his  illegitimate 
children.  Hence  the  appointment  of  Madame  d'O  to 
be  lady  of  the  palace. 

The  household  of  the  Princess  of  Savoy  being  com- 
pleted, the  members  of  it  were  sent  to  the  Pont  Beau- 
vosin  to  meet  their  young  mistress.  She  arrived  early 
on  the  16th  of  October,  slept  at  the  Pont  Beauvosin 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  135 

that  night,  and  on  the  morrow  parted  with  her  Italian 
attendants  without  shedding  a  single  tear.  On  the 
4th  of  November  she  arrived  at  Montargis,  and  was 
received  by  the  King,  Monseigneur,  and  Monsieur. 
The  King  handed  her  down  from  her  coach,  and  con- 
ducted her  to  the  apartment  he  had  prepared  for  her. 
Her  respectful  and  flattering  manners  pleased  him 
highly.  Her  cajoleries,  too,  soon  bewitched  Madame 
de  Maintenon,  whom  she  never  addressed  except  as* 
"Aunt;"  whom  she  treated  with  a  respect,  and  yet 
with  a  freedom,  that  ravished  everybody.  She  became 
the  doll  of  Madame  de  Maintenon  and  the  King, 
pleased  them  infinitely  by  her  insinuating  spirit,  and 
took  greater  liberties  with  them  than  the  children  of 
the  King  had  ever  dared  to  attempt. 


CHAPTER  X 

MEANWHILE  our  campaign  upon  the  Rhine 
proceeded,  and  the  enemy,  having  had  all 
their  grand  projects  of  victory  defeated  by 
the  firmness  and  the  capacity  of  the  Marechal  de 
Choiseul,  retired  into  winter-quarters,  and  we  pre- 
pared to  do  the  same.  The  month  of  October  was 
almost  over  when  Madame  de  Saint-Simon  lost  M. 
Fremont,  father  of  the  Marechal  de  Lorges.  She  had 
happily  given  birth  to  a  daughter  on  the  8th  of  Sep- 
tember. I  was  desirous  accordingly  to  go  to  Paris,  and 
having  obtained  permission  from  the  Marechal  de 
Choiseul,  who  had  treated  me  throughout  the  cam- 
paign with  much  politeness  and  attention,  I  set  out. 
Upon  arriving  at  Paris  I  found  the  Court  at  Fontaine- 
bleau.  I  had  arrived  from  the  army  a  little  before  the 
rest,  and  did  not  wish  that  the  King  should  know  it 
without  seeing  me,  lest  he  might  think  I  had  returned 
in  secret.  I  hastened  at  once  therefore  to  Fontaine- 
bleau,  where  the  King  received  me  with  his  usual 
goodness, — saying,  nevertheless,  that  I  had  returned 
a  little  too  early,  but  that  it  was  of  no  consequence. 

I  had  not  long  left  his  presence  when  I  learned  a 
report  that  made  my  face  burn  again.  It  was  affirmed 
that  when  the  King  remarked  upon  my  arriving  a  little 
early,  I  had  replied  that  I  preferred  arriving  at  once 
to  see  him,  as  my  sole  mistress,  than  to  remain  some 
days  in  Paris,  as  did  the  other  young  men  with  their 
mistresses.  I  went  at  once  to  the  King,  who  had  a 
numerous  company  around  him;  and  I  openly  denied 
what  had  been  reported,  offering  a  reward  for  the  dis- 

136 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  137 

covery  of  the  knave  who  had  thus  calumniated  me,  in 
order  that  I  might  give  him  a  sound  thrashing.  All 
day  I  sought  to  discover  the  scoundrel.  My  speech  to 
the  King  and  my  choler  were  the  topic  of  the  day,  and 
I  was  blamed  for  having  spoken  so  loudly  and  in  such 
terms.  But  of  two  evils  I  had  chosen  the  least, — a  rep- 
primand  from  the  King,  or  a  few  days  in  the  Bastille; 
and  I  had  avoided  the  greatest,  which  was  to  allow 
myself  to  be  believed  an  infamous  libeller  of  our 
young  men,  in  order  to  basely  and  miserably  curry 
favour  at  the  Court.  The  course  I  took  succeeded. 
The  King  said  nothing  of  the  matter,  and  I  went  upon 
a  little  journey  I  wished  particularly  to  take,  for 
reasons  I  will  now  relate. 

I  had,  as  I  have  already  mentioned,  conceived  a 
strong  attachment  and  admiration  for  M.  de  La 
Trappe.  I  wished  to  secure  a  portrait  of  him,  but 
such  was  his  modesty  and  humility  that  I  feared  to 
ask  him  to  allow  himself  to  be  painted.  I  went  there- 
fore to  Rigault,  then  the  first  portrait-painter  in 
Europe.  In  consideration  of  a  sum  of  a  thousand 
crowns,  and  all  his  expenses  paid,  he  agreed  to  ac- 
company me  to  La  Trappe,  and  to  make  a  portrait  of 
him  from  memory.  The  whole  affair  was  to  be  kept 
a  profound  secret,  and  only  one  copy  of  the  picture 
was  to  be  made,  and  that  for  the  artist  himself. 

My  plan  being  fully  arranged,  I  and  Rigault  set  out. 
As  soon  as  we  arrived  at  our  journey's  end,  I  sought 
M.  de  La  Trappe,  and  begged  to  be  allowed  to  intro- 
duce to  him  a  friend  of  mine,  an  officer,  who  much 
wished  to  see  him:  I  added,  that  my  friend  was  a 
stammerer,  and  that  therefore  he  would  be  importuned 
merely  with  looks  and  not  words.  M.  de  La  Trappe 
smiled  with  goodness,  thought  the  officer  curious  about 
little,  and  consented  to  see  him.  The  interview  took 
place.     Rigault  excusing  himself  on  the  ground  of  his 


138  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

infirmity,  did  little  during  three-quarters  of  an  hour 
but  keep  his  eyes  upon  M.  de  La  Trappe,  and  at  the 
end  went  into  a  room  where  materials  were  already 
provided  for  him,  and  covered  his  canvas  with  the 
images  and  the  ideas  he  had  filled  himself  with.  On 
the  morrow  the  same  thing  was  repeated,  although 
M.  de  La  Trappe,  thinking  that  a  man  whom  he  knew 
not,  and  who  could  take  no  part  in  conversation,  had 
•  sufficiently  seen  him,  agreed  to  the  interview  only  out 
of  complaisance  to  me.  Another  sitting  was  needed 
in  order  to  finish  the  work;  but  it  was  with  great  dif- 
ficulty M.  de  La  Trappe  could  be  persuaded  to  consent 
to  it.  When  the  third  and  last  interview  was  at  an 
end,  M.  de  La  Trappe  testified  to  me  his  surprise  at 
having  been  so  much  and  so  long  looked  at  by  a  species 
of  mute.  I  made  the  best  excuses  I  could,  and 
hastened  to  turn  the  conversation. 

The  portrait  was  at  length  finished,  and  was  a  most 
perfect  likeness  of  my  venerable  friend.  Rigault  ad- 
mitted to  me  that  he  had  worked  so  hard  to  produce 
it  from  memory,  that  for  several  months  afterwards 
he  had  been  unable  to  do  anything  to  his  other  por- 
traits. Notwithstanding  the  thousand  crowns  I  had 
paid  him,  he  broke  the  engagement  he  had  made  by 
showing  the  portrait  before  giving  it  up  to  me.  Then, 
solicited  for  copies,  he  made  several,  gaining  thereby, 
according  to  his  own  admission,  more  than  twenty- 
five  thousand  francs,  and  thus  gave  publicity  to  the 
affair. 

I  was  very  much  annoyed  at  this,  and  with  the  noise 
it  made  in  the  world;  and  I  wrote  to  M.  de  La  Trappe, 
relating  the  deception  I  had  practised  upon  him,  and 
sued  for  pardon.  He  was  pained  to  excess,  hurt,  and 
afflicted;  nevertheless  he  showed  no  anger.  He  wrote 
in  return  to  me,  and  said,  I  was  not  ignorant  that  a 
Roman  Emperor  had  said,  "  I  love  treason  but  not 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  139 

traitors;  "  but  that,  as  for  himself,  he  felt  on  the  con- 
trary that  he  loved  the  traitor  but  could  only  hate  his 
treason.  I  made  presents  of  three  copies  of  the  picture 
to  the  monastery  of  La  Trappe.  On  the  back  of  the 
original  I  described  the  circumstance  under  which  the 
portrait  had  been  taken,  in  order  to  show  that  M.  de 
La  Trappe  had  not  consented  to  it,  and  I  pointed  out 
that  for  some  years  he  had  been  unable  to  use  his 
right  hand,  to  acknowledge  thus  the  error  which  had 
been  made  in  representing  him  as  writing. 

The  King,  about  this  time,  set  on  foot  negotiations 
for  peace  in  Holland,  sending  there  two  plenipoten- 
tiaries, Courtin  and  Harlay,  and  acknowledging  one 
of  his  agents,  Caillieres,  who  had  been  for  some  little 
time  secretly  in  that  country. 

The  year  finished  with  the  disgrace  of  Madame  de 
Saint  Geran.  She  was  on  the  best  of  terms  with  the 
Princesses,  and  as  much  a  lover  of  good  cheer  as 
Madame  de  Chartres  and  Madame  la  Duchesse.  This 
latter  had  in  the  park  of  Versailles  a  little  house  that 
she  called  the  "  Desert."  There  she  had  received  very 
doubtful  company,  giving  such  gay  repasts  that  the 
King,  informed  of  her  doings,  was  angry,  and  forbade 
her  to  continue  these  parties  or  to  receive  certain 
guests.  Madame  de  Saint  Geran  was  then  in  the  first 
year  of  her  mourning,  so  that  the  King  did  not  think 
it  necessary  to  include  her  among  the  interdicted;  but 
he  intimated  that  he  did  not  approve  of  her.  In  spite 
of  this,  Madame  la  Duchesse  invited  her  to  an  early 
supper  at  the  Desert  a  short  time  after,  and  the  meal 
was  prolonged  so  far  into  the  night,  and  with  so  much 
gaiety,  that  it  came  to  the  ears  of  the  King.  He  was 
in  great  anger,  and  learning  that  Madame  de  Saint 
Geran  had  been  of  the  party,  sentenced  her  to  be  ban- 
ished twenty  leagues  from  the  Court.  Like  a  clever 
woman,  she  retired  into  a  convent  at  Rouen,  saying 


140  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

that  as  she  had  been  unfortunate  enough  to  displease 
the  King,  a  convent  was  the  only  place  for  her;  and 
this  was  much  approved. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  next  year  (1697)  the 
eldest  son  of  the  Comte  d'Auvergne  completed  his  dis- 
honour by  a  duel  he  fought  with  the  Chevalier  de  Cay- 
lus,  on  account  of  a  tavern  broil,  and  a  dispute  about 
some  wenches.  Caylus,  who  had  fought  well,  fled 
from  the  kingdom;  the  other,  who  had  used  his  sword 
like  a  poltroon,  and  had  run  away  dismayed  into  the 
streets,  was  disinherited  by  his  father,  sent  out  of  the 
country,  and  returned  no  more.  He  was  in  every 
respect  a  wretch,  who,  on  account  of  his  disgraceful 
adventures,  was  forced  to  allow  himself  to  be  dis- 
inherited and  to  take  the  cross  of  Malta;  he  was 
hanged  in  efhgy  at  the  Greve,  to  the  great  regret  of 
his  family,  not  on  account  of  the  sentence,  but  because, 
in  spite  of  every  entreaty,  he  had  been  proceeded 
against  like  the  most  obscure  gentleman.  The  exile 
of  Caylus  afterwards  made  his  fortune. 

We  had  another  instance,  about  this  time,  of  the 
perfidy  of  Harlay.  He  had  been  entrusted  with  a 
valuable  deposit  by  Ruvigny,  a  Huguenot  officer,  who, 
quitting  France,  had  entered  the  service  of  the  Prince 
of  Orange,  and  who  was,  with  the  exception  of 
Marshal  Schomberg,  the  only  Huguenot  to  whom  the 
King  offered  the  permission  of  remaining  at  Court 
with  full  liberty  to  practise  his  religion  in  secret. 
This,  Ruvigny,  like  Marshal  Schomberg,  refused.  He 
was,  nevertheless,  allowed  to  retain  the  property  he 
possessed  in  France;  but  after  his  death  his  son,  not 
showing  himself  at  all  grateful  for  this  favour,  the 
King  at  last  confiscated  the  property,  and  publicly 
testified  his  anger.  This  was  the  moment  that  Harlay 
seized  to  tell  the  King  of  the  deposit  he  had.  As  a 
recompense  the  King  gave  it  to  him  as  confiscated, 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  141 

and  this  hypocrite  of  justice,  of  virtue,  of  disin- 
terestedness, and  of  rigorism  was  not  ashamed  to  ap- 
propriate it  to  himself,  and  to  close  his  ears  and  his 
eyes  to  the  noise  this  perfidy  excited. 

M.  de  Monaco,  who  had  obtained  for  himself  the 
title  of  foreign  prince  by  the  marriage  of  his  son  with 
the  Duchesse  de  Valentinois,  daughter  of  M.  le  Grand, 
and  who  enjoyed,  as  it  were,  the  sovereignty  of  a  rock 
— beyond  whose  narrow  limits  anybody  might  spit,  so 
to  speak,  whilst  standing  in  the  middle — soon  found, 
and  his  son  still  more  so,  that  they  had  bought  the  title 
very  dearly.  The  Duchess  was  charming,  gallant,  and 
was  spoiled  by  the  homage  of  the  Court,  in  a  house 
open  night  and  day,  and  to  which  her  beauty  attracted 
all  that  was  young  and  brilliant.  Her  husband,  with 
much  intelligence,  was  diffident;  his  face  and  figure 
had  acquired  for  him  the  name  of  Goliath;  he  suffered 
for  a  long  time  the  haughtiness  and  the  disdain  of  his 
wife  and  her  family.  At  last  he  and  his  father  grew 
tired  and  took  away  Madame  de  Valentinois  to  Mo- 
naco. She  grieved,  and  her  parents  also,  as  though 
she  had  been  carried  off  to  the  Indies.  After  two 
years  of  absence  and  repentance,  she  promised  marvels, 
and  was  allowed  to  return  to  Paris.  I  know  not  who 
counselled  her,  but,  without  changing  her  conduct,  she 
thought  only  how  to  prevent  a  return  to  Monaco;  and 
to  insure  herself  against  this,  she  accused  her  father- 
in-law  of  having  made  vile  proposals  to  her,  and  of 
attempting  to  take  her  by  force.  This  charge  made  a 
most  scandalous  uproar,  but  was  believed  by  nobody. 
M.  de  Monaco  was  no  longer  young;  he  was  a  very 
honest  man,  and  had  always  passed  for  such;  besides, 
he  was  almost  blind  in  both  eyes,  and  had  a  huge 
pointed  belly,  which  absolutely  excited  fear,  it  jutted 
out  so  far! 

After  some  time,  as  Madame  de  Valentinois  still 


142  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

continued  to  swim  in  the  pleasures  of  the  Court  under 
the  shelter  of  her  family,  her  husband  redemanded 
her;  and  though  he  was  laughed  at  at  first,  she  was  at 
last  given  up  to  him. 

A  marriage  took  place  at  this  time  between  the  son 
of  Pontchartrain  and  the  daughter  of  the  Comte  de 
Roye.  The  Comte  de  Roye  was  a  Huguenot,  and,  at 
the  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantes,  had  taken 
refuge,  with  his  wife,  in  Denmark,  where  he  had  been 
made  grand  marshal  and  commander  of  all  the  troops. 
One  day,  as  the  Comte  de  Roye  was  dining  with  his 
wife  and  daughter  at  the  King's  table,  the  Comtesse 
de  Roye  asked  her  daughter  if  she  did  not  think  the 
Queen  of  Denmark  and  Madame  Panache  resembled 
each  other  like  two  drops  of  water?  Although  she 
spoke  in  French  and  in  a  low  tone,  the  Queen  both 
heard  and  understood  her,  and  inquired  at  once  who 
was  Madame  Panache.  The  Countess  in  her  surprise 
replied,  that  she  was  a  very  amiable  woman  at  the 
French  Court.  The  Queen,  who  had  noticed  the 
surprise  of  the  Countess,  was  not  satisfied  with  this 
reply.  She  wrote  to  the  Danish  minister  at  Paris, 
desiring  to  be  informed  of  every  particular  respecting 
Madame  Panache,  her  face,  her  age,  her  condition, 
and  upon  what  footing  she  was  at  the  French  Court. 
The  minister,  all  astonished  that  the  Queen  should 
have  heard  of  Madame  Panache,  wrote  word  that  she 
was  a  little  and  very  old  creature,  with  lips  and  eyes 
so  disfigured  that  they  were  painful  to  look  upon;  a 
species  of  beggar  who  had  obtained  a  footing  at 
Court  from  being  half-witted,  who  was  now  at  the 
supper  of  the  King,  now  at  the  dinner  of  Monseigneur, 
or  at  other  places,  where  everybody  amused  them- 
selves by  tormenting  her.  She  in  turn  abused  the  com- 
pany at  these  parties,  in  order  to  cause  diversion,  but 
sometimes  rated  them  very  seriously  and  with  strong 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  143 

words,  which  delighted  still  more  those  princes  and 
princesses,  who  emptied  into  her  pockets  meat  and 
ragouts,  the  sauces  of  which  ran  all  down  her  petti- 
coats :  at  these  parties  some  gave  her  a  pistole  or  a 
crown,  and  others  a  filip  or  a  smack  in  the  face,  which 
put  her  in  a  fury,  because  with  her  bleared  eyes  not 
being  able  to  see  the  end  of  her  nose,  she  could  not 
tell  who  had  struck  her; — she  was,  in  a  word,  the 
pastime  of  the  Court! 

Upon  learning  this,  the  Queen  of  Denmark  was  so 
piqued,  that  she  could  no  longer  suffer  the  Comtesse 
de  Roye  near  her;  she  complained  to  the  King:  he  was 
much  offended  that  foreigners,  whom  he  had  loaded 
with  favour,  should  so  repay  him.  The  Comte  de 
Roye  was  unable  to  stand  up  against  the  storm,  and 
withdrew  to  England,  where  he  died  a  few  years 
after. 

The  King  at  this  time  drove  away  the  company  of 
Italian  actors,  and  would  not  permit  another  in  its 
place.  So  long  as  the  Italians  had  simply  allowed 
their  stage  to  overflow  with  filth  or  impiety  they  only 
caused  laughter;  but  they  set  about  playing  a  piece 
called  "  The  False  Prude,"  in  which  Madame  de 
Maintenon  was  easily  recognised.  Everybody  ran  to 
see  the  piece;  but  after  three  or  four  representations, 
given  consecutively  on  account  of  the  gain  it  brought, 
the  Italians  received  orders  to  close  their  theatre  and 
to  quit  the  realm  in  a  month.  This  affair  made  a  great 
noise;  and  if  the  comedians  lost  an  establishment  by 
their  boldness  and  folly,  they  who  drove  them  away 
gained  nothing — such  was  the  licence  with  which  this 
ridiculous  event  was  spoken  of! 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  disposition  of  the  armies  was  the  same  this 
year  as  last,  except  that  the  Princes  did  not 
serve.  Towards  the  end  of  May  I  joined  the 
army  of  the  Rhine,  under  the  Marechal  de  Choiseul, 
as  before.  We  made  some  skilful  manoeuvres,  but  did 
little  in  the  way  of  fighting.  For  sixteen  days  we  en- 
camped at  Nieder-buhl,  where  we  obtained  a  good 
supply  of  forage.  At  the  end  of  that  time  the 
Marechal  de  Choiseul  determined  to  change  his  posi- 
tion. Our  army  was  so  placed,  that  the  enemy  could 
see  almost  all  of  it  quite  distinctly;  yet,  nevertheless, 
we  succeeded  in  decamping  so  quickly,  that  we  disap- 
peared from  under  their  very  eyes  in  open  day- 
light, and  in  a  moment  as  it  were.  Such  of  the  Im- 
perial Generals  as  were  out  riding  ran  from  all  parts 
to  the  banks  of  the  Murg,  to  see  our  retreat,  but  it 
was  so  promptly  executed  that  there  was  no  time  for 
them  to  attempt  to  hinder  us.  When  the  Prince  of 
Baden  was  told  of  our  departure  he  could  not  credit  it. 
He  had  seen  us  so  lately,  quietly  resting  in  our  posi- 
tion, that  it  seemed  impossible  to  him  we  had  left  it 
in  such  a  short  space  of  time.  When  his  own  eyes 
assured  him  of  the  fact,  he  was  filled  with  such 
astonishment  and  admiration,  that  he  asked  those 
around  him  if  they  had  ever  seen  such  a  retreat, — 
adding,  that  he  could  not  have  believed,  until  then, 
that  an  army  so  numerous  and  so  considerable  should 
have  been  able  to  disappear  thus  in  an  instant. 

This  honourable  and  bold  retreat  was  attended  by 
a  sad  accident.     One  of  our  officers,  named  Blansac, 

144 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  145 

while  leading  a  column  of  infantry  through  the  woods, 
was  overtaken  by  night.  A  small  party  of  his  men 
heard  some  cavalry  near  them.  The  cavalry  belonged 
to  the  enemy,  and  had  lost  their  way.  Instead  of 
replying  when  challenged,  they  said  to  each  other  in 
German,  "  Let  us  run  for  it."  Nothing  more  was 
wanting  to  draw  upon  them  a  discharge  from  the 
small  body  of  our  men,  by  whom  they  had  been  heard. 
To  this  they  replied  with  their  pistols.  Immediately, 
and  without  orders,  the  whole  column  of  infantry 
fired  in  that  direction,  and,  before  Blansac  could  in- 
quire the  cause,  fired  again.  Fortunately  he  was  not 
wounded;  but  five  unhappy  captains  were  killed,  and 
some  subalterns  wounded. 

Our  campaign  was  brought  to  an  end  by  the  peace 
of  Ryswick.  The  first  news  of  that  event  arrived  at 
Fontainebleau  on  the  22nd  of  September.  Celi,  son  of 
Harlay,  had  been  despatched  with  the  intelligence; 
but  he  did  not  arrive  until  five  o'clock  in  the  morning 
of  the  26th  of  September.  He  had  amused  himself  by 
the  way  with  a  young  girl  who  had  struck  his  fancy, 
and  with  some  wine  that  he  equally  relished.  He  had 
committed  all  the  absurdities  and  impertinences  which 
might  be  expected  of  a  debauched,  hare-brained  young 
fellow,  completely  spoiled  by  his  father,  and  he 
crowned  all  by  this  fine  delay. 

A  little  time  before  the  signing  of  peace,  the  Prince 
de  Conti,  having  been  elected  King  of  Poland,  set  out 
to  take  possession  of  his  throne.  The  King,  ravished 
with  joy  to  see  himself  delivered  from  a  Prince  whom 
he  disliked,  could  not  hide  his  satisfaction — his  eager- 
ness— to  get  rid  of  a  Prince  whose  only  faults  were 
that  he  had  no  bastard  blood  in  his  veins,  and  that 
he  was  so  much  liked  by  all  the  nation  that  they 
wished  him  at  the  head  of  the  army,  and  murmured 
at    the     little     favour    he     received,     as     compared 


146  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

with  that  showered  down  upon  the  illegitimate 
children. 

The  King  made  all  haste  to  treat  the  Prince  to  royal 
honours.  After  an  interview  in  the  cabinet  of 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  he  presented  him  to  a  number 
of  ladies,  saying,  "  I  bring  you  a  king."  The  Prince 
was  all  along  doubtful  of  the  validity  of  his  election, 
and  begged  that  the  Princess  might  not  be  treated  as  a 
queen,  until  he  should  have  been  crowned.  He  re- 
ceived two  millions  in  cash  from  the  King,  and  other 
assistances.  Samuel  Bernard  undertook  to  make  the 
necessary  payments  in  Poland.  The  Prince  started  by 
way  of  Dunkerque,  and  went  to  that  place  at  such 
speed,  that  an  ill-closed  chest  opened,  and  two  thou- 
sand louis  were  scattered  on  the  road,  a  portion  only 
of  which  was  brought  back  to  the  Hotel  Conti.  The 
celebrated  Jean  Bart  pledged  himself  to  take  him 
safely,  despite  the  enemy's  fleet;  and  kept  his  word. 
The  convoy  was  of  five  frigates.  The  Chevalier  de 
Sillery,  before  starting,  married  Mademoiselle  Bigot, 
rich  and  witty,  with  whom  he  had  been  living  for  some 
time.  Meanwhile  the  best  news  arrived  from  our 
ambassador,  the  Abbe  de  Polignac,  to  the  King;  but 
all  answers  were  intercepted  at  Dantzic  by  the  retired 
Queen  of  Poland,  who  sent  on  only  the  envelopes! 
However,  the  Prince  de  Conti  passed  up  the  Sound; 
and  the  King  and  Queen  of  Denmark  watched  them 
from  the  windows  of  the  Chateau  de  Cronenbourg. 
Jean  Bart,  against  custom,  ordered  a  salute  to  be  fired. 
It  was  returned ;  and  as  some  light  vessels  passing  near 
the  frigates  said  that  the  King  and  Queen  were  look- 
ing on,  the  Prince  ordered  another  salvo. 

There  was,  however,  another  claimant  to  the  throne 
of  Poland;  I  mean  the  Elector  of  Saxony,  who  had 
also  been  elected,  and  who  had  many  partisans;  so 
many,  indeed,  that  when  the  Prince  de  Conti  arrived 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  147 

at  Dantzic,  he  found  himself  almost  entirely  unsup- 
ported. The  people  even  refused  provision  to  his 
frigates.  However,  the  Prince's  partisans  at  length 
arrived  to  salute  him.  The  Bishop  of  Plosko  gave 
him  a  grand  repast,  near  the  Abbey  of  Oliva.  Marege, 
a  Gascon  gentleman  of  the  Prince's  suite,  was  pres- 
ent, but  had  been  ill.  There  was  drinking  in  the  Po- 
lish fashion,  and  he  tried  to  be  let  off.  The  Prince 
pleaded  for  him;  but  these  Poles.,  who,  in  order  to 
make  themselves  understood,  spoke  Latin — and  very 
bad  Latin  indeed — would  not  accept  such  an  excuse, 
and  forcing  him  to  drink,  howled  furiously  Bibat  et 
Moriatur!  Marege,  who  was  very  jocular  and  yet 
very  choleric,  used  to  tell  this  story  in  the  same  spirit, 
and  made  everyone  who  heard  it  laugh. 

However,  the  party  of  the  Prince  de  Conti  made  no 
way,  and  at  length  he  was  fain  to  make  his  way  back 
to  France  with  all  speed.  The  King  received  him  very 
graciously,  although  at  heart  exceeding  sorry  to  see 
him  again.  A  short  time  after,  the  Elector  of  Saxony 
mounted  the  throne  of  Poland  without  opposition,  and 
was  publicly  recognised  by  the  King,  towards  the  com- 
mencement of  August. 

By  the  above-mentioned  peace  of  Ryswick,  the  King 
acknowledged  the  Prince  of  Orange  as  King  of  Eng- 
land. It  was,  however,  a  bitter  draught  for  him  to 
swallow,  and  for  these  reasons:  Some  years  before, 
the  King  had  offered  his  illegitimate  daughter,  the 
Princesse  de  Conti,  in  marriage  to  the  Prince  of  Or- 
ange, believing  he  did  that  Prince  great  honour  by  the 
proposal.  The  Prince  did  not  think  in  the  same  man- 
ner, and  flatly  refused;  saying,  that  the  House  of  Or- 
ange was  accustomed  to  marry  the  legitimate  daugh- 
ters of  great  kings,  and  not  their  bastards.  These 
words  sank  so  deeply  into  the  heart  of  the  King,  that 
he  never  forgot  them;  and  often,  against  even  his  most 


148  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

palpable  interest,  showed  how  firmly  the  indignation 
he  felt  at  them  had  taken  possession  of  his  mind. 
Since  then,  the  Prince  of  Orange  had  done  all  in  his 
power  to  efface  the  effect  his  words  had  made,  but 
every  attempt  was  rejected  with  disdain.  The  King's 
ministers  in  Holland  had  orders  to  do  all  they  could 
to  thwart  the  projects  of  the  Prince  of  Orange,  to 
excite  people  against  him,  to  protect  openly  those  op- 
posed to  him,  and  to  be  in  no  way  niggard  of  money 
in  order  to  secure  the  election  of  magistrates  unfa- 
vourable to  him.  The  Prince  never  ceased,  until  the 
breaking-out  of  this  war,  to  use  every  effort  to  appease 
the  anger  of  the  King.  At  last,  growing  tired,  and 
hoping  soon  to  make  his  invasion  into  England,  he 
said  publicly,  that  he  had  uselessly  laboured  all  his 
life  to  gain  the  favours  of  the  King,  but  that  he 
hoped  to  be  more  fortunate  in  meriting  his  esteem.  It 
may  be  imagined,  therefore,  what  a  triumph  it  was  for 
him  when  he  forced  the  King  to  recognise  him  as 
monarch  of  England,  and  what  that  recognition  cost 
the  King. 

M.  le  Due  presided  this  year  over  the  Assembly  of 
the  States  of  Burgundy,  in  place  of  his  father  M.  le 
Prince,  who  did  not  wish  to  go  there.  The  Duke  gave 
on  that  occasion  a  striking  example  of  the  friendship 
of  princes,  and  a  fine  lesson  to  those  who  seek  it.  San- 
teuil,  Canon  of  Saint  Victor,  and  the  greatest  Latin 
poet  who  has  appeared  for  many  centuries,  accom- 
panied him.  Santeuil  was  an  excellent  fellow,  full  of 
wit  and  of  life,  and  of  pleasantries,  which  rendered 
him  an  admirable  boon-companion.  Fond  of  wine  and 
of  good  cheer,  he  was  not  debauched;  and  with  a  dis- 
position and  talents  so  little  fitted  for  the  cloister,  was 
nevertheless,  at  bottom,  as  good  a  churchman  as  with 
such  a  character  he  could  be.  He  was  a  great  favour- 
ite with  all  the  house  of  Conde,  and  was  invited  to 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  149 

their  parties,  where  his  witticisms,  his  verses,  and  his 
pleasantries  had  afforded  infinite  amusement  for  many 
years. 

M.  le  Due  wished  to  take  him  to  Dijon.  Santeuil 
tried  to  excuse  himself,  but  without  effect;  he  was 
obliged  to  go,  and  was  established  at  the  house  of  the 
Duke  while  the  States  were  held.  Every  evening  there 
was  a  supper,  and  Santeuil  was  always  the  life  of  the 
company.  One  evening  M.  le  Due  diverted  himself 
by  forcing  Santeuil  to  drink  champagne,  and  passing 
from  pleasantry  to  pleasantry,  thought  it  would  be  a 
good  joke  to  empty  his  snuff-box,  full  of  Spanish 
snuff,  into  a  large  glass  of  wine,  and  to  make  San- 
teuil drink  it,  in  order  to  see  what  would  happen.  It 
was  not  long  before  he  was  enlightened  upon  this 
point.  Santeuil  was  seized  with  vomiting  and  with 
fever,  and  in  twice  twenty-four  hours  the  unhappy 
man  died — suffering  the  tortures  of  the  damned,  but 
with  sentiments  of  extreme  penitence,  in  which  he  re- 
ceived the  sacrament,  and  edified  a  company  little  dis- 
posed towards  edification,  but  who  detested  such  a 
cruel  joke. 

In  consequence  of  the  peace  just  concluded  at  Rys- 
wick,  many  fresh  arrangements  were  made  about  this 
time  in  our  embassies  abroad.  This  allusion  to  our 
foreign  appointments  brings  to  my  mind  an  anecdote 
which  deserves  to  be  remembered.  When  M.  de  Ven- 
dome  took  Barcelona,  the  Montjoui  (which  is  as  it 
were  its  citadel)  was  commanded  by  the  Prince  of 
Darmstadt.  He  was  of  the  house  of  Hesse,  and  had 
gone  into  Spain  to  seek  employment;  he  was  a  rela- 
tive of  the  Queen  of  Spain,  and,  being  a  very  well- 
made  man,  had  not,  it  was  said,  displeased  her.  It  was 
said  also,  and  by  people  whose  word  was  not  without 
weight,  that  the  same  council  of  Vienna  which  for 
reasons  of  state  had  made  no  scruple  of  poisoning  the 


150  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

late  Queen  of  Spain  (daughter  of  Monsieur),  because 
she  had  no  children,  and  because  she  had,  also,  too 
much  ascendancy  over  the  heart  of  her  husband;  it 
was  said,  I  say,  that  this  same  council  had  no  scruples 
upon  another  point.     After  poisoning  the  first  Queen, 
it  had  remarried  the  King  of  Spain  to  a  sister  of  the 
Empress.     She  was  tall,  majestic,  not  without  beauty 
and  capacity,  and,  guided  by  the  ministers  of  the  Em- 
peror, soon  acquired  much  influence  over  the  King — 
her  husband.     So  far  all  was  well,  but  the  most  im- 
portant thing  was  wanting — she  had  no  children.   The 
council  had  hoped  some  from  this  second  marriage, 
because  it  had  lured  itself  into  the  belief  that  previ- 
ously the  fault  rested  with  the  late  Queen.    After  some 
years,  this  same  council,  being  no  longer  able  to  dis- 
guise the  fact  that  the  King  could  have  no  children, 
sent  the  Prince  of  Darmstadt  into  Spain,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  establishing  himself  there,  and  of  ingratiating 
himself  into  the  favour  of  the  Queen  to  such  an  ex- 
tent that  this  defect  might  be  remedied.     The  Prince 
of  Darmstadt  was  well  received;  he  obtained  command 
in  the  army;  defended,  as  I  have  said,  Barcelona;  and 
obtained  a  good  footing  at  the  Court.    But  the  object 
for  which  he  had  been  more  especially  sent  he  could 
not  accomplish.    I  will  not  say  whether  the  Queen  was 
inaccessible   from   her  own   fault  or   that   of  others. 
Nor  will  I  say,  although  I  have  been  assured,  but  I 
believe  by  persons   without  good   knowledge   of  the 
subject,   that  naturally  it  was  impossible   for  her  to 
become  a  mother.     I  will  simply  say  that  the  Prince 
of  Darmstadt  was  on  the  best  terms  with  the  King 
and  the  Queen,  and  had  opportunities  very  rare  in  that 
country,  without  any  fruit  which  could  put  the  suc- 
cession of  the  monarchy  in  safety  against  the  different 
pretensions  afloat,  or  reassure  on  that  head  the  politic 
council  of  Vienna. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  151 

But  to  return  to  France. 

Madame  de  Maintenon,  despite  the  height  to  which 
her  insignificance  had  risen,  had  yet  her  troubles.  Her 
brother,  who  was  called  the  Comte  d'Aubigne,  was  of 
but  little  worth,  yet  always  spoke  as  though  no  man 
were  his  equal,  complained  that  he  had  not  been  made 
Marechal  of  France — sometimes  said  that  he  had 
taken  his  baton  in  money,  and  constantly  bullied 
Madame  de  Maintenon  because  she  did  not  make  him 
a  duke  and  a  peer.  He  spent  his  time  running  after 
girls  in  the  Tuileries,  always  had  several  on  his  hands, 
and  lived  and  spent  his  money  with  their  families  and 
friends  of  the  same  kidney.  He  was  just  fit  for  a 
strait-waistcoat,  but  comical,  full  of  wit  and  unex- 
pected repartees.  A  good,  humorous  fellow,  and  hon- 
est— polite,  and  not  too  impertinent  on  account  of  his 
sister's  fortune.  Yet  it  was  a  pleasure  to  hear  him 
talk  of  the  time  of  Scarron  and  the  Hotel  d'Albret, 
and  of  the  gallantries  and  adventures  of  his  sister, 
which  he  contrasted  with  her  present  position  and  de- 
votion. He  would  talk  in  this  manner,  not  before  one 
or  two,  but  in  a  compromising  manner,  quite  openly  in 
the  Tuileries  gardens,  or  in  the  galleries  of  Versailles, 
before  everybody,  and  would  often  drolly  speak  of  the 
King  as  ;'  the  brother-in-law."  I  have  frequently 
heard  him  talk  in  this  manner;  above  all,  when  he 
came  (more  often  than  was  desired)  to  dine  with  my 
father  and  mother,  who  were  much  embarrassed  with 
him;  at  which  I  used  to  laugh  in  my  sleeve. 

A  brother  like  this  was  a  great  annoyance  to  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon.  His  wife,  an  obscure  creature, — 
more  obscure,  if  possible,  than  her  birth, — foolish  to 
the  last  degree,  and  of  humble  mien,  was  almost 
equally  so.  Madame  de  Maintenon  determined  to  rid 
herself  of  both.  She  persuaded  her  brother  to  enter 
a  society  that  had  been  established  by  a  M.  Doyen,  at 


152  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

St.  Sulpice,  for  decayed  gentlemen.  His  wife  at  the 
same  time  was  induced  to  retire  into  another  commu- 
nity, where,  however,  she  did  not  fail  to  say  to  her 
companions  that  her  fate  was  very  hard,  and  that  she 
wished  to  be  free.  As  for  d'Aubigne  he  concealed 
from  nobody  that  his  sister  was  putting  a  joke  on  him 
by  trying  to  persuade  him  that  he  was  devout, — de- 
clared that  he  was  pestered  by  priests,  and  that  he 
should  give  up  the  ghost  in  M.  Doyen's  house.  He 
could  not  stand  it  long,  and  went  back  to  his  girls 
and  to  the  Tuileries,  and  wherever  he  could;  but  they 
caught  him  again,  and  placed  him  under  the  guardian- 
ship of  one  of  the  stupidest  priests  of  St.  Sulpice,  who 
followed  him  everywhere  like  his  shadow,  and  made 
him  miserable.  The  fellow's  name  was  Madot:  he 
was  good  for  no  other  employment,  but  gained  his  pay 
in  this  one  by  an  assiduity  of  which  perhaps  no  one 
else  would  have  been  capable.  The  only  child  of  this 
Comte  d'Aubigne  was  a  daughter,  taken  care  of  by 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  educated  under  her  eyes 
as  though  her  own  child. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  year,  and  not  long  after  my 
return  from  the  army,  the  King  fixed  the  day  for  the 
marriage  of  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  to  the  young 
Princesse  de  Savoy.  He  announced  that  on  that  oc- 
casion he  should  be  glad  to  see  a  magnificent  Court; 
and  he  himself,  who  for  a  long  time  had  worn  only  the 
most  simple  habits,  ordered  the  most  superb.  This 
was  enough;  no  one  thought  of  consulting  his  purse 
or  his  state;  everyone  tried  to  surpass  his  neighbour 
in  richness  and  invention.  Gold  and  silver  scarcely 
sufficed :  the  shops  of  the  dealers  were  emptied  in  a 
few  days;  in  a  word  luxury  the  most  unbridled  reigned 
over  Court  and  city,  for  the  fete  had  a  huge  crowd  of 
spectators.  Things  went  to  such  a  point,  that  the  King 
almost  repented  of  what  he  had  said,  and  remarked, 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  153 

that  he  could  not  understand  how  husbands  could  be 
such  fools  as  to  ruin  themselves  by  dresses  for  their 
wives ;  he  might  have  added,  by  dresses  for  themselves. 
But  the  impulse  had  been  given;  there  was  now  no 
time  to  remedy  it,  and  I  believe  the  King  at  heart  was 
glad;  for  it  pleased  him  during  the  fetes  to  look  at  all 
the  dresses.  He  loved  passionately  all  kinds  of  sump- 
tuosity  at  his  Court,  and  he  who  should  have  held  only 
to  what  had  been  said,  as  to  the  folly  of  expense,  would 
have  grown  little  in  favour.  There  was  no  means, 
therefore,  of  being  wise  among  so  many  fools.  Sev- 
eral dresses  were  necessary.  Those  for  Madame 
Saint-Simon  and  myself  cost  us  twenty  thousand 
francs.  Workmen  were  wanting  to  make  up  so  many 
rich  habits.  Madame  la  Duchesse  actually  sent  her 
people  to  take  some  by  force  who  were  working  at 
the  Due  de  Rohan's!  The  King  heard  of  it,  did  not 
like  it,  and  had  the  workmen  sent  back  immediately 
to  the  Hotel  de  Rohan,  although  the  Due  de  Rohan 
was  one  of  the  men  he  liked  the  least  in  all  France. 
The  King  did  another  thing,  which  showed  that  he 
desired  everybody  to  be  magnificent :  he  himself  chose 
the  design  for  the  embroidery  of  the  Princess.  The 
embroiderer  said  he  would  leave  all  his  other  designs 
for  that.  The  King  would  not  permit  this,  but  caused 
him  to  finish  the  work  he  had  in  hand,  and  to  set 
himself  afterwards  at  the  other;  adding,  that  if  it 
was  not  ready  in  time,  the  Princess  could  do  with- 
out it. 

The  marriage  was  fixed  for  Saturday,  the  7th  of 
December;  and,  to  avoid  disputes  and  difficulties,  the 
King  suppressed  all  ceremonies.  The  day  arrived. 
At  an  early  hour  all  the  Court  went  to  Monseigneur 
the  Due  de  Bourgogne,  who  went  afterwards  to  the 
Princess.  A  little  before  mid-day  the  procession 
started  from  the  salon,  and  proceeded  to  the  chapel. 


154  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

Cardinal  de  Coislin  performed  the  marriage  service. 
As  soon  as  the  ceremony  was  finished,  a  courier,  ready 
at  the  door  of  the  chapel,  started  for  Turin.  The  day 
passed  wearily.  The  King  and  Queen  of  England 
came  about  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  some 
time  afterwards  supper  was  served.  Upon  rising  from 
the  table,  the  Princess  was  shown  to  her  bed,  none 
but  ladies  being  allowed  to  remain  in  the  chamber. 
Her  chemise  was  given  her  by  the  Queen  of  England 
through  the  Duchesse  de  Lude.  The  Due  de  Bour- 
gogne  undressed  in  another  room,  in  the  midst  of  all 
the  Court,  and  seated  upon  a  folding-chair.  The  King 
of  England  gave  him  his  shirt,  which  was  presented 
by  the  Due  de  Beauvilliers.  As  soon  as  the  Duchesse 
de  Bourgogne  was  in  bed,  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  en- 
tered, and  placed  himself  at  her  side,  in  the  presence 
of  all  the  Court.  Immediately  afterwards  everybody 
went  away  from  the  nuptial  chamber,  except  Mon- 
seigneur,  the  ladies  of  the  Princess,  and  the  Due  de 
Beauvilliers,  who  remained  at  the  pillow  by  the  side 
of  his  pupil,  with  the  Duchesse  de  Lude  on  the  other 
side.  Monseigneur  stopped  a  quarter  of  an  hour  talk- 
ing with  the  newly-married  couple,  then  he  made  his 
son  get  up,  after  having  told  him  to  kiss  the  Princess, 
in  spite  of  the  opposition  of  the  Duchesse  de  Lude. 
As  it  proved,  too,  her  opposition  was  not  wrong.  The 
King  said  he  did  not  wish  that  his  grandson  should 
kiss  the  end  of  the  Princess's  finger  until  they  were 
completely  on  the  footing  of  man  and  wife.  Monsieur 
le  Due  de  Bourgogne  after  this  re-dressed  himself  in 
the  ante-chamber,  and  went  to  his  own  bed  as  usual. 
The  little  Due  de  Berry,  spirited  and  resolute,  did  not 
approve  of  the  docility  of  his  brother,  and  declared 
that  he  would  have  remained  in  bed.  The  young 
couple  were  not,  indeed,  allowed  to  live  together  as 
man  and  wife  until  nearly  two  years  afterwards.    The 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  155 

first  night  that  this  privilege  was  granted  them,  the 
King  repaired  to  their  chamber  hoping  to  surprise 
them  as  they  went  to  bed;  but  he  found  the  doors 
closed,  and  would  not  allow  them  to  be  opened.  The 
marriage-fetes  spread  over  several  days.  On  the  Sun- 
day there  was  an  assembly  in  the  apartments  of  the 
new  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne.  It  was  magnificent  by 
the  prodigious  number  of.  ladies  seated  in  a  circle,  or 
standing  behind  the  stools,  gentlemen  in  turn  behind 
them,  and  the  dresses  of  all  beautiful.  It  commenced 
at  six  o'clock.  The  King  came  at  the  end,  and  led  all 
the  ladies  into  the  saloon  near  the  chapel,  where  was  a 
fine  collation,  and  the  music.  At  nine  o'clock  he  con- 
ducted Monsieur  and  Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne to  the  apartment  of  the  latter,  and  all  was  fin- 
ished for  the  day.  The  Princess  continued  to  live  just 
as  before,  and  the  ladies  had  strict  orders  never  to 
leave  her  alone  with  her  husband. 

On  the  Wednesday  there  was  a  grand  ball  in  the 
gallery,  superbly  ornamented  for  the  occasion.  There 
was  such  a  crowd,  and  such  disorder,  that  even  the 
King  was  inconvenienced,  and  Monsieur  was  pushed 
and  knocked  about  in  the  crush.  How  other  people 
fared  may  be  imagined.  No  place  was  kept — strength 
or  chance  decided  everything — people  squeezed  in 
where  they  could.  This  spoiled  all  the  fete.  About 
nine  o'clock  refreshments  were  handed  round,  and  at 
half-past  ten  supper  was  served.  Only  the  Princesses 
of  the  blood  and  the  royal  family  were  admitted  to  it. 
On  the  following  Sunday  there  was  another  ball,  but 
this  time  matters  were  so  arranged  that  no  crowding 
or  inconvenience  occurred.  The  ball  commenced  at 
seven  o'clock  and  was  admirable;  everybody  appeared 
in  dresses  that  had  not  previously  been  seen.  The 
King  found  that  of  Madame  de  Saint-Simon  much  to 
his  taste,  and  gave  it  the  palm  over  all  the  others. 


156  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

Madame  de  Maintenon  did  not  appear  at  these  balls, 
at  least  only  for  half  an  hour  at  each.  On  the  follow- 
ing Tuesday  all  the  Court  went  at  four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  to  Trianon,  where  all  gambled  until  the  ar- 
rival of  the  King  and  Queen  of  England.  The  King 
took  them  into  the  theatre,  where  Destouches's  opera 
of  Isse  was  very  well  performed.  The  opera  being 
finished,  everybody  went  his  way,  and  thus  these 
marriage-fetes  were  brought  to  an  end. 

Tesse  had  married  his  eldest  daughter  to  La  Va- 
renne  last  year,  and  now  married  his  second  daughter 
to  Maulevrier,  son  of  a  brother  of  Colbert.  This  men- 
tion of  La  Varenne  brings  to  my  recollection  a  very 
pleasant  anecdote  of  his  ancestor,  the  La  Varenne  so 
known  in  all  the  memoirs  of  the  time  as  having  risen 
from  the  position  of  scullion  to  that  of  cook,  and  then 
to  that  of  cloak-bearer  to  Henry  IV.,  whom  he  served 
in  his  pleasures,  and  afterwards  in  his  state-affairs.  At 
the  death  of  the  King,  La  Varenne  retired,  very  old 
and  very  rich,  into  the  country.  Birds  were  much  in 
vogue  at  that  time,  and  he  often  amused  himself  with 
falconry.  One  day  a  magpie  perched  on  one  of  his 
trees,  and  neither  sticks  nor  stones  could  dislodge  it. 
La  Varenne  and  a  number  of  sportsmen  gathered 
around  the  tree  and  tried  to  drive  away  the  magpie. 
Importuned  with  all  this  noise,  the  bird  at  last  began 
to  cry  repeatedly  with  all  its  might,  "Pandar! 
Pandar !  " 

Now  La  Varenne  had  gained  all  he  possessed  by 
that  trade.  Hearing  the  magpie  repeat  again  and 
again  the  same  word,  he  took  it  into  his  head  that  by 
a  miracle,  like  the  observation  Balaam's  ass  made  to 
his  master,  the  bird  was  reproaching  him  for  his  sins. 
He  was  so  troubled  that  he  could  not  help  showing  it; 
then,  more  and  more  agitated,  he  told  the  cause  of  his 
disturbance  to  the  company,  who  laughed  at  him  in  the 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  157 

first  place,  but,  upon  finding  that  he  was  growing  really 
ill,  they  endeavoured  to  convince  him  that  the  magpie 
belonged  to  a  neighbouring  village,  where  it  had 
learned  the  word.  It  was  all  in  vain :  La  Varenne  was 
so  ill  that  he  was  obliged  to  be  carried  home;  fever 
seized  him,  and  in  four  days  he  died. 


CHAPTER  XII 

HERE  perhaps  is  the  place  to  speak  of  Charles 
IV.,  Due  de  Lorraine,  so  well  known  by  his 
genius,  and  the  extremities  to  which  he  was 
urged.  He  was  married  in  1621  to  the  Duchesse 
Nicole,  his  cousin-german,  but  after  a  time  ceased  to 
live  with  her.  Being  at  Brussels  he  fell  in  love  with 
Madame  de  Cantecroix,  a  widow.  He  bribed  a  courier 
to  bring  him  news  of  the  death  of  the  Duchesse 
Nicole;  he  circulated  the  report  throughout  the  town, 
wore  mourning,  and  fourteen  days  afterwards,  in 
April,  1637,  married  Madame  de  Cantecroix.  In  a 
short  time  it  was  discovered  that  the  Duchesse  Nicole 
was  full  of  life  and  health,  and  had  not  even  been  ill. 
Madame  de  Cantecroix  made  believe  that  she  had  been 
duped,  but  still  lived  with  the  Duke.  They  continued 
to  repute  the  Duchesse  Nicole  as  dead,  and  lived  to- 
gether in  the  face*  of  the  world  as  though  effectually 
married,  although  there  had  never  been  any  question 
either  before  or  since  of  dissolving  the  first  marriage. 
The  Due  Charles  had  by  this  fine  marriage  a  daughter 
and  then  a  son,  both  perfectly  illegitimate,  and  uni- 
versally regarded  as  such.  Of  these  the  daughter 
married  Comte  de  Lislebonne,  by  whom  she  had  four 
children.  The  son,  educated  under  his  father's  eye  as 
legitimate,  was  called  Prince  de  Vaudemont,  and  by 
that  name  has  ever  since  been  known.  He  entered 
the  service  of  Spain,  distinguished  himself  in  the 
army,  obtained  the  support  of  the  Prince  of  Orange, 
and  ultimately  rose  to  the  very  highest  influence  and 
prosperity. 

158 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  159 

People  were  astonished  this  year,  that  while  the 
Princess  of  Savoy  was  at  Fontainebleau,  just  before 
her  marriage,  she  was  taken  several  times  by  Madame 
de  Maintenon  to  a  little  unknown  convent  at  Moret, 
where  there  was  nothing  to  amuse  her,  and  no  nuns 
who  were  known.  Madame  de  Maintenon  often  went 
there,  and  Monseigneur  with  his  children  sometimes; 
the  late  Queen  used  to  go  also.  This  awakened  much 
curiosity  and  gave  rise  to  many  reports.  It  seems  that 
in  this  convent  there  was  a  woman  of  colour,  a  Moor- 
ish woman,  who  had  been  placed  there  very  young 
by  Bontems,  valet  of  the  King.  She  received  the  ut- 
most care  and  attention,  but  never  was  shown  to  any- 
body. When  the  late  Queen  or  Madame  de  Mainte- 
non went,  they  did  not  always  see  her,  but  always 
watched  over  her  welfare.  She  was  treated  with  more 
consideration  than  people  the  most  distinguished;  and 
herself  made  much  of  the  care  that  was  taken  of  her, 
and  the  mystery  by  which  she  was  surrounded.  Al- 
though she  lived  regularly,  it  was  easy  to  see  she  was 
not  too  contented  with  her  position.  Hearing  Mon- 
seigneur hunt  in  the  forest  one  day,  she  forgot  herself 
so  far  as  to  exclaim,  "My  brother  is  hunting!''  It 
was  pretended  that  she  was  a  daughter  of  the  King 
and  Queen,  but  that  she  had  been  hidden  away  on 
account  of  her  colour;  and  the  report  was  spread  that 
the  Queen  had  had  a  miscarriage.  Many  people  be- 
lieved this  story;  but  whether  it  was  true  or  not  has 
remained  an  enigma. 

The  year  1698  commenced  by  a  reconciliation  be- 
tween the  Jesuits  and  the  Archbishop  of  Rheims.  That 
prelate  upon  the  occasion  of  an  ordinance  had  ex- 
pressed himself  upon  matters  of  doctrine  and  morality 
in  a  manner  that  displeased  the  Jesuits.  They  acted 
towards  him  in  their  usual  manner,  by  writing  an  at- 
tack upon  him,  which  appeared  without  any  author's 


160  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

name.  But  the  Archbishop  complained  to  the  King, 
and  altogether  stood  his  ground  so  firmly,  that  in  the 
end  the  Jesuits  were  glad  to  give  way,  disavow  the 
book,  and  arrange  the  reconciliation  which  took 
place. 

The  Czar,  Peter  the  Great,  Emperor  of  Russia,  had 
at  this  time  already  commenced  his  voyages;  he  was 
in  Holland,  learning  ship-building.  Although  incog- 
nito, he  wished  to  be  recognised,  but  after  his  own 
fashion;  and  was  annoyed  that,  being  so  near  to  Eng- 
land, no  embassy  was  sent  to  him  from  that  country, 
which  he  wished  to  ally  himself  with  for  commercial 
reasons. 

At  last  an  embassy  arrived;  he  delayed  for  some 
time  to  give  it  an  audience,  but  in  the  end  fixed  the 
day  and  hour  at  which  he  would  see  it.  The  reception, 
however,  was  to  take  place  on  board  a  large  Dutch 
vessel  that  he  was  going  to  examine.  There  were  two 
ambassadors;  they  thought  the  meeting-place  rather 
an  odd  one,  but  were  obliged  to  go  there.  When  they 
arrived  on  board  the  Czar  sent  word  that  he  was  in  the 
"  top,"  and  that  it  was  there  he  would  see  them.  The 
ambassadors,  whose  feet  were  unaccustomed  to  rope- 
ladders,  tried  to  excuse  themselves  from  mounting; 
but  it  was  all  in  vain.  The  Czar  would  receive  them 
in  the  "  top  "  or  not  at  all.  At  last  they  were  com- 
pelled to  ascend,  and  the  meeting  took  place  on  that 
narrow  place  high  up  in  the  air.  The  Czar  received 
them  there  with  as  much  majesty  as  though  he  had 
been  upon  his  throne,  listened  to  their  harangue,  re- 
plied very  graciously,  and  then  laughed  at  the  fear 
painted  upon  their  faces,  and  good-humouredly  gave 
them  to  understand  that  he  had  punished  them  thus 
for  arriving  so  late. 

After  this  the  Czar  passed  into  England,  curious  to 
see  and  learn  as  much  as  possible;  and,  having  well  ful- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  161 

filled  his  views,  repaired  into  Holland.  He  wished  to 
visit  France,  but  the  King  civilly  declined  to  receive 
him.  He  went,  therefore,  much  mortified,  to  Vienna 
instead.  Three  weeks  after  his  arrival  he  was  in- 
formed of  a  conspiracy  that  had  been  formed  against 
him  in  Moscow.  He  hastened  there  at  once,  and  found 
that  it  was  headed  by  his  own  sister;  he  put  her  in 
prison,  and  hanged  her  most  guilty  accomplices  to  the 
bars  of  his  windows,  as  many  each  day  as  the  bars 
would  hold.  I  have  related  at  once  all  that  regards  the 
Czar  for  this  year,  in  order  not  to  leap  without  ceas- 
ing from  one  matter  to  another;  I  shall  do  this,  and 
for  the  same  reason,  with  that  which  follows. 

The  King  of  England  was,  as  I  have  before  said,  at 
the  height  of  satisfaction  at  having  been  recognised 
by  the  King  (Louis  XIV.),  and  at  finding  himself 
secure  upon  the  throne.  But  a  usurper  is  never  tran- 
quil and  content.  William  was  annoyed  by  the  resi- 
dence of  the  legitimate  King  and  his  family  at  Saint 
Germains.  It  was  too  close  to  the  King  (of  France), 
and  too  near  England  to  leave  him  without  disquie- 
tude. He  had  tried  hard  at  Ryswick  to  obtain  the 
dismissal  of  James  II.  from  the  realm,  or  at  least  from 
the  Court  of  France,  but  without  effect.  Afterwards 
he  sent  the  Duke  of  St.  Albans  to  our  King  openly, 
in  order  to  compliment  him  upon  the  marriage  of  the 
Due  de  Bourgogne,  but  in  reality  to  obtain  the 
dismissal. 

The  Duke  of  St.  Albans  meeting  with  no  success, 
the  Duke  of  Portland  was  sent  to  succeed  him.  The 
Duke  of  Portland  came  over  with  a  numerous  and 
superb  suite;  he  kept  up  a  magnificent  table,  and  had 
horses,  liveries,  furniture,  and  dresses  of  the  most 
tasteful  and  costly  kind.  He  was  on  his  way  when  a 
fire  destroyed  Whitehall,  the  largest  and  ugliest  pal- 
ace in  Europe,  and  which  has  not  since  been  rebuilt; 


162  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

so  that  the  kings  are  lodged,  and  very  badly,  at  St. 
James's  Palace. 

Portland  had  his  first  audience  of  the  King  on  the 
4th  of  February,  and  remained  four  months  in  France. 
His  politeness,  his  courtly  and  gallant  manners,  and 
the  good  cheer  he  gave,  charmed  everybody,  and  made 
him  universally  popular.  It  became  the  fashion  to 
give  fetes  in  his  honour;  and  the  astonishing  fact  is, 
that  the  King,  who  at  heart  was  more  offended  than 
ever  with  William  of  Orange,  treated  this  ambassador 
with  the  most  marked  distinction.  One  evening  he 
even  gave  Portland  his  bedroom  candlestick,  a  favour 
only  accorded  to  the  most  considerable  persons,  and 
always  regarded  as  a  special  mark  of  the  King's 
bounty. 

Notwithstanding  all  these  attentions,  Portland  was 
as  unsuccessful  as  his  predecessor.  The  King  had 
firmly  resolved  to  continue  his  protection  to  James 
II.,  and  nothing  could  shake  this  determination.  Port- 
land was  warned  from  the  first,  that  if  he  attempted  to 
speak  to  the  King  upon  the  point,  his  labour  would  be 
thrown  away;  he  wisely  therefore  kept  silence,  and 
went  home  again  without  in  any  way  having  fulfilled 
the  mission  upon  which  he  had  been  sent. 

We  had  another  distinguished  foreigner  arrive  in 
France  about  this  time, — I  mean,  the  Prince  of  Parma, 
respecting  whom  I  remember  a  pleasing  adventure. 
At  Fontainebleau  more  great  dancing-parties  are 
given  than  elsewhere,  and  Cardinal  d'Estrees  wished 
to  give  one  there  in  honour  of  this  Prince.  I  and  many 
others  were  invited  to  the  banquet;  but  the  Prince 
himself,  for  whom  the  invitation  was  specially  pro- 
vided, was  forgotten.  The  Cardinal  had  given  invi- 
tations right  and  left,  but  by  some  omission  the  Prince 
had  not  had  one  sent  to  him.  On  the  morning  of  the 
dinner  this  discovery  was  made.     The  Prince  was  at 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  163 

once  sent  to,  but  he  was  engaged,  and  for  several 
days.  The  dinner  therefore  took  place  without  him; 
the  Cardinal  was  much  laughed  at  for  his  absence  of 
mind.     He  was  often  similarly  forgetful. 

The  Bishop  of  Poitiers  died  at  the  commencement 
of  this  year,  and  his  bishopric  was  given  at  Easter  to 
the  Abbe  de  Caudelet.  The  Abbe  was  a  very  good 
man,  but  made  himself  an  enemy,  who  circulated  the 
blackest  calumnies  against  him.  Amongst  other  im- 
postures it  was  said  that  the  Abbe  had  gambled  all 
Good  Friday;  the  truth  being,  that  in  the  evening, 
after  all  the  services  were  over,  he  went  to  see  the 
Marechale  de  Crequi,  who  prevailed  upon  him  to 
amuse  her  for  an  hour  by  playing  at  piquet.  But  the 
calumny  had  such  effect,  that  the  bishopric  of  Poitiers 
was  taken  from  him,  and  he  retired  into  Brittany, 
where  he  passed  the  rest  of  his  life  in  solitude  and 
piety.  His  brother  in  the  mean  time  fully  proved  to 
Pere  de  la  Chaise  the  falsehood  of  this  accusation; 
and  he,  who  was  upright  and  good,  did  all  he  could  to 
bestow  some  other  living  upon  the  Abbe,  in  recom- 
pense for  that  he  had  been  stripped  of.  But  the  King 
would  not  consent,  although  often  importuned,  and 
even  reproached  for  his  cruelty. 

It  was  known,  too,  who  was  the  author  of  the  cal- 
umny. It  was  the  Abbe  de  la  Chatre,  who  for  a  long 
time  had  been  chaplain  to  the  King,  and  who  was 
enraged  against  everyone  who  was  made  bishop  be- 
fore him.  He  was  a  man  not  wanting  in  intelligence, 
but  bitter,  disagreeable,  punctilious;  very  ignorant, 
because  he  would  never  study,  and  so  destitute  of 
morality,  that  I  saw  him  say  mass  in  the  chapel  on 
Ash  Wednesday,  after  having  passed  a  night,  masked 
at  a  ball,  where  he  said  and  did  the  most  filthy  things, 
as  seen  and  heard  by  M.  de  La  Vrilliere,  before  whom 
he  unmasked,  and  who  related  this  to  me:  half  an 

Vol.  11  Memoirs — F 


164  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

hour  after,  I  met  the  Abbe  de  la  Chatre,  dressed  and 
going  to  the  altar.  Other  adventures  had  already  de- 
prived him  of  all  chance  of  being  made  bishop  by  the 
King. 

The  old  Villars  died  at  this  time.  I  have  already 
mentioned  him  as  having  been  made  chevalier  d'hon- 
neur  to  the  Duchesse  de  Chartres  at  her  marriage.  I 
mention  him  now,  because  I  omitted  to  say  before  the 
origin  of  his  name  of  Orondat,  by  which  he  was  gen- 
erally known,  and  which  did  not  displease  him.  This 
is  the  circumstance  that  gave  rise  to  it.  Madame  de 
Choisy,  a  lady  of  the  fashionable  world,  went  one  day 
to  see  the  Comtesse  de  Fiesque,  and  found  there  a  large 
company.  The  Countess  had  a  young  girl  living  with 
her,  whose  name  was  Mademoiselle  d'Outrelaise,  but 
who  was  called  the  Divine.  Madame  de  Choisy,  wish- 
ing to  go  into  the  bedroom,  said  she  would  go  there, 
and  see  the  Divine.  Mounting  rapidly,  she  found  in 
the  chamber  a  young  and  very  pretty  girl,  Mademoi- 
selle Bellefonds,  and  a  man,  who  escaped  immediately 
upon  seeing  her.  The  face  of  this  man  being  perfectly 
well  made,  so  struck  her,  that,  upon  coming  down 
again,  she  said  it  could  only  be  that  of  Orondat.  Now 
that  romances  are  happily  no  longer  read,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  say  that  Orondat  is  a  character  in  Cyrus,  cele- 
brated by  his  figure  and  his  good  looks,  and  who 
charmed  all  the  heroines  of  that  romance,  which  was 
then  much  in  vogue.  The  greater  part  of  the  company 
knew  that  Villars  was  upstairs  to  see  Mademoiselle  de 
Bellefonds,  with  whom  he  was  much  in  love,  and  whom 
he  soon  afterwards  married.  Everybody  therefore 
smiled  at  this  adventure  of  Orondat,  and  the  name 
clung  ever  afterwards  to  Villars. 

The  Prince  de  Conti  lost,  before  this  time,  his  son, 
Prince  la  Roche-sur-Yon,  who  was  only  four  years 
old.     The  King  wore  mourning  for  hirm  although  it 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  165 

was  the  custom  not  to  do  so  for  children  under  seven 
years  of  age.  But  the  King  had  already  departed 
from  this  custom  for  one  of  the  children  of  M.  du 
Maine,  and  he  dared  not  afterwards  act  differently 
towards  the  children  of  a  prince  of  the  blood.  Just 
at  the  end  of  September,  M.  du  Maine  lost  another 
child,  his  only  son.  The  King  wept  very  much,  and, 
although  the  child  was  considerably  under  seven  years 
of  age,  wore  mourning  for  it.  The  marriage  of  Made- 
moiselle to  M.  de  Lorraine  was  then  just  upon  the 
point  of  taking  place;  and  Monsieur  (father  of  Made- 
moiselle) begged  that  this  mourning  might  be  laid 
aside  when  the  marriage  was  celebrated.  The  King 
agreed,  but  Madame  la  Duchesse  and  the  Princesse 
de  Conti  believed  it  apparently  beneath  them  to  render 
this  respect  to  Monsieur,  and  refused  to  comply.  The 
King  commanded  them  to  do  so,  but  they  pushed  the 
matter  so  far  as  to  say  that  they  had  no  other  clothes. 
Upon  this,  the  King  ordered  them  to  send  and  get  some 
directly.  They  were  obliged  to  obey,  and  admit  them- 
selves vanquished;  but  they  did  so  not  without  great 
vexation.  M.  de  Cambrafs  affairs  still  continued  to 
make  a  great  stir  among  the  prelates  and  at  the  Court. 
Madame  Guyon  was  transferred  f rom  the  Vincennes  to 
the  Bastille,  and  it  was  believed  she  would  remain  there 
all  her  life.  The  Dues  de  Chevreuse  and  Beauvilliers 
lost  all  favour  with  M.  de  Maintenon,  and  narrowly 
escaped  losing  the  favour  of  the  King.  An  attempt 
was  in  fact  made,  which  Madame  de  Maintenon 
strongly  supported,  to  get  them  disgraced;  and,  but 
for  the  Archbishop  of  Paris,  this  would  have  taken 
place.  But  this  prelate,  thoroughly  upright  and  con- 
scientious, counselled  the  King  against  such  a  step,  to 
the  great  vexation  of  his  relations,  who  were  the  chief 
plotters  in  the  conspiracy  to  overthrow  the  two  Dukes. 
As   for   M.   de   Cambrai's   book,   Les  Maximes  des 


i66  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

'Saints,  it  was  as  little  liked  as  ever,  and  underwent 
rather  a  strong  criticism  at  this  time  from  M.  de  La 
Trappe,  which  did  not  do  much  to  improve  its  repu- 
tation. At  the  commencement  of  the  dispute  M.  de 
Meaux  had  sent  a  copy  of  Les  Max'xmes  des  Saints  to 
M.  de  La  Trappe,  asking  as  a  friend  for  his  opinion 
of  the  work.  M.  de  La  Trappe  read  it,  and  was  much 
scandalized.  The  more  he  studied  it,  the  more  this 
sentiment  penetrated  him.  At  last,  after  having  well 
examined  the  book,  he  sent  his  opinion  to  M.  de 
Meaux,  believing  it  would  be  considered  as  private, 
and  not  be  shown  to  anybody.  He  did  not  measure 
his"  words,  therefore,  but  wrote  openly,  that  if  M.  de 
Cambrai  was  right  he  might  burn  the  Evangelists,  and 
complain  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  could  have  come  into 
the  world  only  to  deceive  us.  The  frightful  force  of 
this  phrase  was  so  terrifying,  that  M.  de  Meaux 
thought  it  worthy  of  being  shown  to  Madame  de 
Maintenon;  and  she,  seeking  only  to  crush  M.  de 
Cambrai  with  all  the  authorities  possible,  would 
insist  upon  this  opinion  of  M.  de  La  Trappe  being 
printed. 

It  may  be  imagined  what  triumphing  there  was  on 
the  one  side,  and  what  piercing  cries  on  the  other. 
The  friends  of  M.  de  Cambrai  complained  most  bit- 
terly that  M.  de  La  Trappe  had  mixed  himself  up  in 
the  matter,  and  had  passed  such  a  violent  and  cruel 
sentence  upon  a  book  then  under  the  consideration  of 
the  Pope.  M.  de  La  Trappe  on  his  side  was  much 
afflicted  that  his  letter  had  been  published.  He  wrote 
to  M.  de  Meaux  protesting  against  this  breach  of 
confidence;  and  said  that,  although  he  had  only  ex- 
pressed what  he  really  thought,  he  should  have  been 
careful  to  use  more  measured  language,  had  he  sup- 
posed his  letter  would  have  seen  the  light.  He  said 
all  he  could  to  heal  the  wounds  his  words  had  caused, 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  167 

but  M.  de  Cambrai  and  his  friends  never  forgave  him 
for  having  written  them. 

This  circumstance  caused  much  discussion;  and  M. 
de  La  Trappe,  to  whom  I  was  passionately  attached, 
was  frequently  spoken  of  in  a  manner  that  caused  me 
much  annoyance.  Riding  out  one  day  in  a  coach  with 
some  of  my  friends,  the  conversation  took  this  turn. 
I  listened  in  silence  for  some  time,  and  then,  feeling 
no  longer  able  to  support  the  discourse,  desired  to  be 
set  down,  so  that  my  friends  might  talk  at  their  ease, 
without  pain  to  me.  They  tried  to  retain  me,  but  I 
insisted  and  carried  my  point.  Another  time,  Charost, 
one  of  my  friends,  spoke  so  disdainfully  of  M.  de  La 
Trappe,  and  I  replied  to  him  with  such  warmth,  that 
on  the  instant  he  was  seized  with  a  fit,  tottered,  stam- 
mered, his  throat  swelled,  his  eyes  seemed  starting 
from  his  head,  and  his  tongue  from  his  mouth. 
Madame  de  Saint-Simon  and  the  other  ladies  who 
were  present  flew  to  his  assistance;  one  unfastened  his 
cravat  and  his  shirt-collar,  another  threw  a  jug  of 
water  over  him  and  made  him  drink  something;  but 
as  for  me,  I  was  struck  motionless  at  the  sudden 
change  brought  about  by  an  excess  of  anger  and  in- 
fatuation. Charost  was  soon  restored,  and  when  he 
left  I  was  taken  to  task  by  the  ladies.  In  reply  I  sim- 
ply smiled.  I  gained  this  by  the  occurrence,  that 
Charost  never  committed  himself  again  upon  the  sub- 
ject of  M.  de  La  Trappe. 

Before  quitting  this  theme,  I  will  relate  an  anecdote 
which  has  found  belief.  It  has  been  said,  that  when 
M.  de  La  Trappe  was  the  Abbe  de  Ranee  he  was  much 
in  love  with  the  beautiful  Madame  de  Montbazon,  and 
that  he  was  well  treated  by  her.  On  one  occasion 
after  leaving  her,  in  perfect  health,  in  order  to  go  into 
the  country,  he  learnt  that  she  had  fallen  ill.  He  has- 
tened back,  entered  hurriedly  into  her  chamber,  and 


1 68  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

the  first  sight  he  saw  there  was  her  head,  that  the 
surgeons,  in  opening  her,  had  separated  from  her  body. 
It  was  the  first  intimation  he  had  had  that  she  was 
dead,  and  the  surprise  and  horror  of  the  sight  so  con- 
verted him  that  immediately  afterwards  he  retired 
from  the  world.  There  is  nothing  true  in  all  this  ex- 
cept the  foundation  upon  which  the  fiction  arose.  I 
have  frankly  asked  M.  de  La  Trappe  upon  this  mat- 
ter, and  from  him  I  have  learned  that  he  was  one  of 
the  friends  of  Madame  de  Montbazon,  but  that  so  far 
from  being  ignorant  of  the  time  of  her  death,  he  was 
by  her  side  at  the  time,  administered  the  sacrament 
to  her,  and  had  never  quitted  her  during  the  few  days 
she  was  ill.  The  truth  is,  her  sudden  death  so  touched 
him,  that  it  made  him  carry  out  his  intention  of  re- 
tiring from  the  world — an  intention,  however,  he  had 
formed   for  many  years. 

The  affair  of  M.  de  Cambrai  was  not  finally  settled 
until  the  commencement  of  the  following  year,  1699, 
but  went  on  making  more  noise  day  by  day.  At  the 
date  I  have  named  the  verdict  from  Rome  arrived. 
Twenty-three  propositions  of  the  Maximes  des  Saints 
were  declared  rash,  dangerous,  erroneous, — in  globo, — 
and  the  Pope  excommunicated  those  who  read  the 
book  or  kept  it  in  their  houses.  The  King  was  much 
pleased  with  this  condemnation,  and  openly  expressed 
his  satisfaction.  Madame  de  Maintenon  appeared  at 
the  summit  of  joy.  As  for  M.  de  Cambrai,  he  learnt 
his  fate  in  a  moment  which  would  have  overwhelmed 
a  man  with  less  resources  in  himself.  He  was  on  the 
point  of  mounting  into  the  pulpit :  he  was  by  no  means 
troubled;  put  aside  the  sermon  he  had  prepared,  and, 
without  delaying  a  moment,  took  for  subject  the  sub- 
mission due  to  the  Church;  he  treated  this  theme  in  a 
powerful  and  touching  manner;  announced  the  con- 
demnation of  his  book;  retracted  the  opinions  he  had 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  1691 

professed;  and  concluded  his  sermon  by  a  perfect 
acquiescence  and  submission  to  the  judgment  the  Pope 
had  just  pronounced.  Two  days  afterwards  he  pub- 
lished his  retraction,  condemned  his  book,  prohibited 
the  reading  of  it,  acquiesced  and  submitted  himself 
anew  to  his  condemnation,  and  in  the  clearest  terms 
took  away  from  himself  all  means  of  returning  to  his 
opinions.  A  submission  s'o  prompt,  so  clear,  so  per- 
fect, was  generally  admired,  although  there  were  not 
wanting  censors  who  wished  he  had  shown  less  readi- 
ness in  giving  way.  His  friends  believed  the  submis- 
sion would  be  so  flattering  to  the  Pope,  that  M.  de 
Cambrai  might  rely  upon  advancement  to  a  cardinal- 
ship,  and  steps  were  taken,  but  without  any  good  re- 
sult, to  bring  about  that  event. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A  BOUT  this  time  the  King  caused  Charnace  to  be 
l\  arrested  in  a  province  to  which  he  had  been 
■*■  •*•  banished.  He  was  accused  of  many  wicked 
things,  and,  amongst  others,  of  coining.  Charnace 
was  a  lad  of  spirit,  who  had  been  page  to  the  King 
and  officer  in  the  body-guard.  Having  retired  to  his 
own  house,  he  often  played  off  many  a  prank.  One 
of  these  I  will  mention,  as  being  full  of  wit  and  very 
laughable. 

He  had  a  very  long  and  perfectly  beautiful  avenue 
before  his  house  in  Anjou,  but  in  the  midst  of  it  were 
the  cottage  and  garden  of  a  peasant;  and  neither  Char- 
nace, nor  his  father  before  him,  could  prevail  upon 
him  to  remove,  although  they  offered  him  large  sums. 
Charnace  at  last  determined  to  gain  his  point  by  strata- 
gem. The  peasant  was  a  tailor,  and  lived  all  alone, 
without  wife  or  child.  One  day  Charnace  sent  for 
him,  said  he  wanted  a  Court  suit  in  all  haste,  and, 
agreeing  to  lodge  and  feed  him,  stipulated  that  he 
should  not  leave  the  house  until  it  was  done.  The 
tailor  agreed,  and  set  himself  to  the  work.  While  he 
was  thus  occupied,  Charnace  had  the  dimensions  of 
his  house  and  garden  taken  with  the  utmost  exactitude; 
made  a  plan  of  the  interior,  showing  the  precise  posi- 
tion of  the  furniture  and  the  utensils;  and,  when  all 
was  done,  pulled  down  the  house  and  removed  it  a 
short  distance  off. 

Then  it  was  arranged  as  before  with  a  similar  look- 
ing garden,  and  at  the  same  time  the  spot  on  which  it 
had  previously  stood  was  smoothed  and  levelled.     All 

170 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  171 

1  s 

this  was  done  before  the  suit  was  finished.  The  work 
being  at  length  over  on  both  sides,  Charnace  amused 
the  tailor  until  it  was  quite  dark,  paid  him,  and  dis- 
missed him  content.  The  man  went  on  his  way  down 
the  avenue;  but,  finding  the  distance  longer  than  usual, 
looked  about,  and  perceived  he  had  gone  too  far.  Re- 
turning, he  searched  diligently  for  his  house,  but  with- 
out being  able  to  find  it.  The  night  passed  in  this  ex- 
ercise. When  the  day  came,  he  rubbed  his  eyes,  think- 
ing they  might  have  been  in  fault;  but  as  he  found 
them  as  clear  as  usual,  began  to  believe  that  the  devil 
had  carried  away  his  house,  garden  and  all.  By  dint 
of  wandering  to  and  fro,  and  casting  his  eyes  in  every 
direction,  he  saw  at  last  a  house  which  was  as  like  to 
his  as  are  two  drops  of  water  to  each  other.  Curiosity 
tempted  him  to  go  and  examine  it.  He  did  so,  and  be- 
came convinced  it  was  his  own.  He  entered,  found 
everything  inside  as  he  had  left  it,  and  then  became 
quite  persuaded  he  had  been  tricked  by  a  sorcerer.  The 
day  was  not,  however,  very  far  advanced  before  he 
learned  the  truth  through  the  banter  of  his  neighbours. 
In  fury  he  talked  of  going  to  law,  of  demanding  jus- 
tice, but  was  laughed  at  everywhere.  The  King  when 
he  heard  of  it  laughed  also;  and  Charnace  had  his 
avenue  free.  If  he  had  never  done  anything  worse 
than  this,  he  would  have  preserved  his  reputation  and 
his  liberty. 

A  strange  scene  happened  at  Meudon  after  supper 
one  evening,  towards  the  end  of  July.  The  Prince  de 
Conti  and  the  Grand  Prieur  were  playing,  and  a  dis- 
pute arose  respecting  the  game.  The  Grand  Prieur, 
inflated  by  pride  on  account  of  the  favours  the  King 
had  showered  upon  him,  and  rendered  audacious  by 
being  placed  almost  on  a  level  with  the  Princes  of  the 
blood,  used  words  which  would  have  been  too  strong 
even  towards  an  equal.    The  Prince  de  Conti  answered 


i/2  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

by  a  repartee,  in  which  the  other's  honesty  at  play  and 
his  courage  in  war — both,  in  truth,  little  to  boast 
about — were  attacked.  Upon  this  the  Grand  Prieur 
flew  into  a  passion,  flung  away  the  cards,  and  demanded 
satisfaction,  sword  in  hand.  The  Prince  de  Conti, 
with  a  smile  of  contempt,  reminded  him  that  he  was 
wanting  in  respect,  and  at  the  same  time  said  he  could 
have  the  satisfaction  he  asked  for  whenever  he  pleased. 
The  arrival  of  Monseigneur,  in  his  dressing-gown,  put 
an  end  to  the  fray.  He  ordered  the  Marquis  de 
Gesvres,  who  was  one  of  the  courtiers  present,  to  re- 
port the  whole  affair  to  the  King,  and  that  every  one 
should  go  to  bed.  On  the  morrow  the  King  was  in- 
formed of  what  had  taken  place,  and  immediately  or- 
dered the  Grand  Prieur  to  go  to  the  Bastille.  He  was 
obliged  to  obey,  and  remained  in  confinement  several 
days.  The  affair  made  a  great  stir  at  Court.  The 
Princes  of  the  blood  took  a  very  high  tone,  and  the 
illegitimates  were  much  embarrassed.  At  last,  on  the 
7th  of  August,  the  affair  was  finally  accommodated 
through  the  intercession  of  Monseigneur.  The  Grand 
Prieur  demanded  pardon  of  the  Prince  de  Conti  in 
the  presence  of  his  brother,  M.  de  Vendome,  who  was 
obliged  to  swallow  this  bitter  draught,  although 
against  his  will,  in  order  to  appease  the  Princes  of  the 
blood,  who  were  extremely  excited. 

Nearly  at  the  same  time,  that  is  to  say,  on  the  29th 
of  May,  in  the  morning  Madame  de  Saint-Simon  was 
happily  delivered  of  a  child.  God  did  us  the  grace  to 
give  us  a  son.  He  bore,  as  I  had,  the  name  of  Vidame 
of  Chartres.  I  do  not  know  why  people  have  the 
fancy  for  these  odd  names,  but  they  seduce  in  all  na- 
tions, and  they  who  feel  the  triviality  of  them,  imitate 
them.  It  is  true  that  the  titles  of  Count  and  Marquis 
have  fallen  into  the  dust  because  of  the  quantity  of 
people  without  wealth,  and  even  without  land,  who 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  173? 

usurp  them;  and  that  they  have  become  so  worthless, 
that  people  of  quality  who  are  Marquises  or  Counts 
(if  they  will  permit  me  to  say  it)  are  silly  enough 
to  be  annoyed  if  those  titles  are  given  to  them  in  con- 
versation. It  is  certain,  however,  that  these  titles 
emanated  from  landed  creations,  and  that  in  their 
origin  they  had  functions  attached  to  them,  which 
they  have  since  outlived.  The  vidames,  on  the  con- 
trary, were  only  principal  officers  of  certain  bishops, 
with  authority  to  lead  all  the  rest  of  their  seigneurs' 
vassals  to  the  field,  either  to  fight  against  other  lords, 
or  in  the  armies  that  our  kings  used  to  assemble  to 
combat  their  enemies  before  the  creation  of  a  stand- 
ing army  put  an  end  to  the  employment  of  vassals 
(there  being  no  further  need  for  them),  and  to  all  the 
power  and  authority  of  the  seigneurs.  There  is  thus 
no  comparison  between  the  title  of  Vidame,  which  only 
marks  a  vassal,  and  the  titles  which  by  fief  emanate 
from  the  King.  Yet  because  the  few  Vidames  who 
have  been  known  were  illustrious,  the  name  has  ap- 
peared grand,  and  for  this  reason  was  given  to  me, 
and  afterwards  by  me  to  my  son. 

Some  little  time  before  this,  the  King  resolved  to 
show  all  Europe,  which  believed  his  resources  ex- 
hausted by  a  long  war,  that  in  the  midst  of  profound 
peace,  he  was  as  fully  prepared  as  ever  for  arms.  He 
wished  at  the  same  time,  to  present  a  superb  spectacle 
to  Madame  de  Maintenon,  under  pretext  of  teaching 
the  young  Due  de  Bourgogne  his  first  lesson  in  war. 
He  gave  all  the  necessary  orders,  therefore,  for  form- 
ing a  camp  at  Compiegne,  to  be  commanded  by  the 
Marechal  de  Boufflers  under  the  young  Duke.  On 
Thursday,  the  28th  of  August,  all  the  Court  set  out 
for  the  camp.  Sixty  thousand  men  were  assembled 
there.  The  King,  as  at  the  marriage  of  the  Due  de 
Bourgogne,  had  announced  that  he  counted  upon  see- 


174  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

ing  the  troops  look  their  best.  The  consequence  of 
this  was  to  excite  the  army  to  an  emulation  that  was 
repented  of  afterwards.  Not  only  were  the  troops  in 
such  beautiful  order  that  it  was  impossible  to  give  the 
palm  to  any  one  corps,  but  their  commanders  added 
the  finery  and  magnificence  of  the  Court  to  the  ma- 
jestic and  warlike  beauty  of  the  men,  of  the  arms,  and 
of  the  horses;  and  the  officers  exhausted  their  means 
in  uniforms  which  would  have  graced  a  fete. 

Colonels,  and  even  simple  captains,  kept  open  table; 
but  the  Marechal  de  Bouffiers  outstripped  everybody 
by  his  expenditure,  by  his  magnificence,  and  his  good 
taste.  Never  was  seen  a  spectacle  so  transcendent — so 
dazzling — and  (it  must  be  said)  so  terrifying.  At  all 
hours,  day  or  night,  the  Marechal's  table  was  open  to 
every  comer — whether  officer,  courtier,  or  spectator. 
All  were  welcomed  and  invited,  with  the  utmost  civil- 
ity and  attention,  to  partake  of  the  good  things  pro- 
vided. There  was  every  kind  of  hot  and  cold  liquors; 
everything  which  can  be  the  most  widely  and  the  most 
splendidly  comprehended  under  the  term  refreshment: 
French  and  foreign  wines,  and  the  rarest  liqueurs  in 
the  utmost  abundance.  Measures  were  so  well  taken 
that  quantities  of  game  and  venison  arrived  from  all 
sides;  and  the  seas  of  Normandy,  of  Holland,  of  Eng- 
land, of  Brittany,  even  the  Mediterranean,  furnished 
all  they  contained — the  most  unheard-of,  extraordi- 
nary, and  most  exquisite — at  a  given  day  and  hour 
with  inimitable  order,  and  by  a  prodigious  number  of 
horsemen  and  little  express  carriages.  Even  the  wa- 
ter was  fetched  from  Sainte  Reine,  from  the  Seine, 
and  from  sources  the  most  esteemed;  and  it  is  im- 
possible to  imagine  anything  of  any  kind  which  was 
not  at  once  ready  for  the  obscurest  as  for  the  most 
distinguished  visitor,  the  guest  most  expected,  and  the 
guest  not  expected  at  all.     Wooden  houses  and  mag- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  175 

nificent  tents  stretched  all  around,  in  number  sufficient 
to  form  a  camp  of  themselves,  and  were  furnished 
in  the  most  superb  manner,  like  the  houses  in  Paris. 
Kitchens  and  rooms  for  every  purpose  were  there, 
and  the  whole  was  marked  by  an  order  and  cleanliness 
that  excited  surprise  and  admiration.  The  King, 
wishing  that  the  magnificence  of  this  camp  should  be 
seen  by  the  ambassadors,  invited  them  there,  and  pre- 
pared lodgings  for  them.  But  the  ambassadors  claimed 
a  silly  distinction,  which  the  King  would  not  grant, 
and  they  refused  his  invitation.  This  distinction  I 
call  silly  because  it  brings  no  advantage  with  it  of 
any  kind.  I  am  ignorant  of  its  origin,  but  this  is  what 
it  consists  in.  When,  as  upon  such  an  occasion  as 
this,  lodgings  are  allotted  to  the  Court,  the  quarter- 
master writes  in  chalk,  "  for  Monsieur  Such-a-one," 
upon  those  intended  for  Princes  of  the  blood,  cardi- 
nals, and  foreign  princes;  but  for  none  other.  The 
King  would  not  allow  the  "  for  "  to  be  written  upon 
the  lodgings  of  the  ambassadors;  and  the  ambassadors, 
therefore,  kept  away.  The  King  was  much  piqued  at 
this,  and  I  heard  him  say  at  supper,  that  if  he  treated 
them  as  they  deserved,  he  should  only  allow  them  to 
come  to  Court  at  audience  times,  as  was  the  custom 
everywhere  else. 

The  King  arrived  at  the  camp  on  Saturday,  the  30th 
of  August,  and  went  with  the  Due  and  Duchesse  de 
Bourgogne  and  others  to  the  quarters  of  Marechal  de 
BoufBers,  where  a  magnificent  collation  was  served  up 
to  them — so  magnificent  that  when  the  King  returned, 
he  said  it  would  be  useless  for  the  Due  de  Bourgogne 
to  attempt  anything  so  splendid;  and  that  whenever  he 
went  to  the  camp  he  ought  to  dine  with  Marechal  de 
Boufners.  In  effect,  the  King  himself  soon  after  dined 
there,  and  led  to  the  Marechal's  table  the  King  of  Eng- 
land, who  was  passing  three  or  four  days  in  the  camp. 


176  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

On  these  occasions  the  King  pressed  Marechal  de 
Bonfflers  to  be  seated.  He  would  never  comply,  but 
waited  upon  the  King  while  the  Due  de  Grammont,  his 
brother-in-law,  waited  upon  Monseigneur. 

The  King  amused  himself  much  in  pointing  out  the 
disposition  of  the  troops  to  the  ladies  of  the  Court,  and 
in  the  evening  showed  them  a  grand  review. 

A  very  pleasant  adventure  happened  at  this  review 
to  Count  Tesse,  colonel  of  dragoons.  Two  days  pre- 
viously M.  de  Lauzun,  in  the  course  of  chit-chat,  asked 
him  how  he  intended  to  dress  at  the  review;  and  per- 
suaded him  that,  it  being  the  custom,  he  must  appear 
at  the  head  of  his  troops  in  a  grey  hat,  or  that  he  would 
assuredly  displease  the  King.  Tesse,  grateful  for  this 
information,  and  ashamed  of  his  ignorance,  thanked 
M.  de  Lauzun,  and  sent  off  for  a  hat  in  all  haste  to 
Paris.  The  King,  as  M.  de  Lauzun  well  knew,  had  an 
aversion  to  grey,  and  nobody  had  worn  it  for  several 
years.  When,  therefore,  on  the  day  of  the  review  he 
saw  Tesse  in  a  hat  of  that  colour,  with  a  black  feather, 
and  a  huge  cockade  dangling  and  flaunting  above,  he 
called  to  him,  and  asked  him  why  he  wore  it.  Tesse 
replied  that  it  was  the  privilege  of  the  colonel-general 
to  wear  that  day  a  grey  hat.  "  A  grey  hat,"  replied 
the  King;  ;' where  the  devil  did  you  learn  that?': 
"  From  M.  de  Lauzun,  Sire,  for  whom  you  created 
the  charge,"  said  Tesse,  all  embarrassment.  On  the 
instant,  the  good  Lauzun  vanished,  bursting  with 
laughter,  and  the  King  assured  Tesse  that  M.  de 
Lauzun  had  merely  been  joking  with  him.  I  never 
saw  a  man  so  confounded  as  Tesse  at  this.  He  re- 
mained with  downcast  eyes,  looking  at  his  hat,  with 
a  sadness  and  confusion  that  rendered  the  scene  per- 
fect. He  was  obliged  to  treat  the  matter  as  a  joke, 
but  was  for  a  long  time  much  tormented  about  it,  and 
much  ashamed  of  it. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  177 

Nearly  every  day  the  Princes  dined  with  Marechal 
de  Boufflers,  whose  splendour  and  abundance  knew  no 
end.  Everybody  who  visited  him,  even  the  humblest, 
was  served  with  liberality  and  attention.  All  the  vil- 
lages and  farms  for  four  leagues  round  Compiegne 
were  filled  with  people,  French,  and  foreigners,  yet 
there  was  no  disorder.  The  gentlemen  and  valets 
at  the  Marechal's  quarters  were  of  themselves  quite  a 
world,  each  more  polite  than  his  neighbour,  and  all 
incessantly  engaged  from  five  o'clock  in  the  morning 
until  ten  and  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  doing  the  hon- 
ours to  various  guests.  I  return  in  spite  of  myself  to 
the  Marechal's  liberality;  because,  who  ever  saw  it, 
cannot  forget,  or  ever  cease  to  be  in  a  state  of  aston- 
ishment and  admiration  at  its  abundance  and  sumptu- 
ousness,  or  at  the  order,  never  deranged  for  a  mo- 
ment at  a  single  point,  that  prevailed. 

The  King  wished  to  show  the  Court  all  the  manoeu- 
vres of  war;  the  siege  of  Compiegne  was  therefore  un- 
dertaken, according  to  due  form,  with  lines,  trenches, 
batteries,  mines,  &c.  On  Saturday,  the  13th  of  Sep- 
tember, the  assault  took  place.  To  witness  it,  the 
King,  Madame  de  Maintenon,  all  the  ladies  of  the 
Court,  and  a  number  of  gentlemen,  stationed  them- 
selves upon  an  old  rampart,  from  which  the  plain  and 
all  the  disposition  of  the  troops  could  be  seen.  I  was 
in  the  half  circle  very  close  to  the  King.  It  was  the 
most  beautiful  sight  that  can  be  imagined,  to  see  all 
that  army,  and  the  prodigious  number  of  spectators 
on  horse  and  foot,  and  that  game  of  attack  and  defence 
so  cleverly  conducted. 

But  a  spectacle  of  another  sort,  that  I  could  paint 
forty  years  hence  as  well  as  to-day,  so  strongly  did  it 
strike  me,  was  that  which  from  the  summit  of  this 
rampart  the  King  gave  to  all  his  army,  and  to  the 
innumerable  crowd  of  spectators  of  all  kinds  in  the 


178  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

plain  below.  Madame  de  Maintenon  faced  the  plain 
and  the  troops  in  her  sedan-chair — alone,  between  its 
three  windows  drawn  up — her  porters  having  retired 
to  a  distance.  On  the  left  pole  in  front  sat  Madame  la 
Duchesse  de  Bourgogne;  and  on  the  same  side  in  a 
semicircle,  standing,  were  Madame  la  Duchesse,  Ma- 
dame la  Princesse  de  Conti,  and  all  the  ladies,  and 
behind  them  again,  many  men.  At  the  right  window 
was  the  King,  standing,  and  a  little  in  the  rear,  a  semi- 
circle of  the  most  distinguished  men  of  the  Court.  The 
King  was  nearly  always  uncovered;  and  every  now  and 
then  stooped  to  speak  to  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and 
explain  to  her  what  she  saw,  and  the  reason  of  each 
movement.  Each  time  that  he  did  so  she  was  obliging 
enough  to  open  the  window  four  or  five  inches,  but 
never  half  way;  for  I  noticed  particularly,  and  I  admit 
that  I  was  more  attentive  to  this  spectacle  than  to  that 
of  the  troops.  Sometimes  she  opened  of  her  own  ac- 
cord to  ask  some  question  of  him,  but  generally  it  was 
he  who,  without  waiting  for  her,  stooped  down  to  in- 
struct her  of  what  was  passing;  and  sometimes,  if  she 
did  not  notice  him,  he  tapped  at  the  glass  to  make  her 
open  it.  He  never  spoke,  save  to  her,  except  when  he 
gave  a  few  brief  orders,  or  just  answered  Madame  la 
Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  who  wanted  to  make  him 
speak,  and  with  whom  Madame  de  Maintenon  carried 
on  a  conversation  by  signs,  without  opening  the  front 
window,  through  which  the  young  Princess  screamed 
to  her  from  time  to  time.  I  watched  the  countenance 
of  every  one  carefully ;  all  expressed  surprise  tempered 
with  prudence  and  shame,  that  was,  as  it  were,  ashamed 
of  itself :  every  one  behind  the  chair  and  in  the  semi- 
circle watched  this  scene  more  than  what  was  going 
on  in  the  army.  The  King  often  put  his  hat  on  the  top 
of  the  chair  in  order  to  get  his  head  in  to  speak;  and 
this  continual  exercise  tired  his  loins  very  much.  Mon- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  179 

seigneur  was  on  horseback  in  the  plain  with  the  young 
Princes.  It  was  about  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
and  the  weather  was  as  brilliant  as  could  be  desired. 

Opposite  the  sedan-chair  was  an  opening  with  some 
steps  cut  through  the  wall,  and  communicating  with 
the  plain  below.  It  had  been  made  for  the  purpose  of 
fetching  orders  from  the  King,  should  they  be  neces- 
sary. The  case  happened.  Crenan,  who  commanded, 
sent  Conillac,  an  officer  in  one  of  the  defending  regi- 
ments, to  ask  for  some  instructions  from  the  King. 
Conillac  had  been  stationed  at  the  foot  of  the  rampart, 
where  what  was  passing  above  could  not  be  seen.  He 
mounted  the  steps;  and  as  soon  as  his  head  and  shoul- 
ders were  at  the  top,  caught  sight  of  the  chair,  the 
King,  and  all  the  assembled  company.  He  was  not 
prepared  for  such  a  scene,  and  it  struck  him  with  such 
astonishment,  that  he  stopped  short,  with  mouth  and 
eyes  wide  open — surprise  painted  upon  every  feature. 
I  see  him  now  as  distinctly  as  I  did  then.  The  King,  as 
wrell  as  all  the  rest  of  the  company,  remarked  the  agi- 
tation of  Conillac,  and  said  to  him  with  emotion, 
"  Well,  Conillac !  come  up."  Conillac  remained  motion- 
less, and  the  King  continued,  "  Come  up.  What  is 
the  matter?"  Conillac,  thus  addressed,  finished  his 
ascent,  and  came  towards  the  King  with  slow  and 
trembling  steps,  rolling  his  eyes  from  right  to  left  like 
one  deranged.  Then  he  stammered  something,  but  in 
a  tone  so  low  that  it  could  not  be  heard.  "  What  do 
you  say?"  cried  the  King.  "  Speak  up."  But  Conil- 
lac was  unable;  and  the  King,  finding  he  could  get 
nothing  out  of  him,  told  him  to  go  away.  He  did 
not  need  to  be  told  twice,  but  disappeared  at  once.  As 
soon  as  he  was  gone,  the  King,  looking  round,  said, 
"  I  don't  know  what  is  the  matter  with  Conillac.  He 
has  lost  his  wits;  he  did  not  remember  what  he  had 
to  say  to  me."     No  one  answered. 


180  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

Towards  the  moment  of  the  capitulation,  Madame 
de  Maintenon  apparently  asked  permission  to  go  away, 
for  the  King  cried,  "  The  chairmen  of  Madame !  " 
They  came  and  took  her  away;  in  less  than  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  afterwards  the  King  retired  also,  and 
nearly  everybody  else.  There  was  much  interchange 
of  glances,  nudging  with  elbows,  and  then  whisperings 
in  the  ear.  Everybody  was  full  of  what  had  taken 
place  on  the  ramparts  between  the  King  and  Madame 
de  Maintenon.  Even  the  soldiers  asked  what  meant 
that  sedan-chair  and  the  King  every  moment  stooping 
to  put  his  head  inside  of  it.  It  became  necessary  gently 
to  silence  these  questions  of  the  troops.  What  effect 
this  sight  had  upon  foreigners  present,  and  what  they 
said  of  it,  may  be  imagined.  All  over  Europe  it  was 
as  much  talked  of  as  the  camp  of  Compiegne  itself, 
with  all  its  pomp  and  prodigious  splendour. 

The  last  act  of  this  great  drama  was  a  sham  fight. 
The  execution  was  perfect;  but  the  commander,  Rose, 
who  was  supposed  to  be  beaten,  would  not  yield. 
Marechal  de  Boufflers  sent  and  told  him  more  than 
once  that  it  was  time.  Rose  flew  into  a  passion,  and 
would  not  obey.  The  King  laughed  much  at  this,  and 
said,  "  Rose  does  not  like  to  be  beaten."  At  last  he 
himself  sent  the  order  for  retreat.  Rose  was  forced 
then  to  comply;  but  he  did  it  with  a  very  bad  grace, 
and  abused  the  bearer  of  the  order. 

The  King  left  the  camp  on  Monday  the  22d  of  Sep- 
tember, much  pleased  with  the  troops.  He  gave,  in 
parting,  six  hundred  francs  to  each  cavalry  captain, 
and  three  hundred  francs  to  each  captain  of  infantry. 
He  gave  as  much  to  the  majors  of  all  the  regiments, 
and  distributed  some  favours  to  his  household.  To 
Marechal  de  Boufflers  he  presented  one  hundred  thou- 
sand francs.  All  these  gifts  together  amounted  to 
something:  but  separately  were  as  mere  drops  of  wa- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  181 

ter.  There  was  not  a  single  regiment  that  was  not 
ruined,  officers  and  men,  for  several  years.  As  for 
Marechal  de  Boufflers,  I  leave  it  to  be  imagined  what 
a  hundred  thousand  francs  were  to  him  whose  magnifi- 
cence astounded  all  Europe,  described  as  it  was  by 
foreigners  who  were  witnesses  of  it,  and  who  day 
after  day  could  scarcely  believe  their  own  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

HERE  I  will  relate  an  adventure,  which  shows 
that,  however  wise  and  enlightened  a  man 
may  be,  he  is  never  infallible.  M.  de  La 
Trappe  had  selected  from  amongst  his  brethren  one 
who  was  to  be  his  successor.  The  name  of  this  monk 
was  D.  Frangois  Gervaise.  He  had  been  in  the  mon- 
astery for  some  years,  had  lived  regularly  during  that 
time,  and  had  gained  the  confidence  of  M.  de  La 
Trappe.  As  soon,  however,  as  he  received  this  ap- 
pointment, his  manners  began  to  change.  He  acted  as 
though  he  were  already  master,  brought  disorder  and 
ill-feeling  into  the  monastery,  and  sorely  grieved  M. 
de  La  Trappe;  who,  however,  looked  upon  this  afflic- 
tion as  the  work  of  Heaven,  and  meekly  resigned  him- 
self to  it.  At  last,  Franqois  Gervaise  was  by  the  mer- 
est chance  detected  openly,  under  circumstances  which 
blasted  his  character  for  ever.  His  companion  in 
guilt  was  brought  before  M.  de  La  Trappe,  to  leave 
no  doubt  upon  the  matter.  D.  Francois  Gervaise,  ut- 
terly prostrated,  resigned  his  office,  and  left  La  Trappe. 
Yet,  even  after  this,  he  had  the  hardihood  to  show 
himself  in  the  world,  and  to  try  and  work  himself  into 
the  favour  of  Pere  la  Chaise.  A  discovery  that  was 
made,  effectually  stopped  short  his  hopes  in  this  direc- 
tion. A  letter  of  his  was  found,  written  to  a  nun  with 
whom  he  had  been  intimate,  whom  he  loved,  and  by 
whom  he  was  passionately  loved.  It  was  a  tissue  of 
filthiness  and  stark  indecency,  enough  to  make  the 
most  abandoned  tremble.  The  pleasures,  the  regrets, 
the  desires,  the  hopes  of  this  precious  pair,  were  all 

182 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  183 

expressed  in  the  boldest  language,  and  with  the  ut- 
most licence.  I  believe  that  so  many  abominations  are 
not  uttered  in  several  days,  even  in  the  worst  places. 
For  this  offence  Gervaise  might  have  been  confined 
in  a  dungeon  all  his  life,  but  he  was  allowed  to  go 
at  large.  He  wandered  from  monastery  to  monastery 
for  five  or  six  years,  and  always  caused  so  much  dis- 
order wherever  he  stopped,  that  at  last  the  superiors 
thought  it  best  to  let  him  live  as  he  liked  in  a  curacy 
of  his  brother's.  He  never  ceased  troubling  La 
Trappe,  to  which  he  wished  to  return;  so  that  at  last 
I  obtained  a  lettre  de  cachet,  which  prohibited  him 
from  approaching  within  thirty  leagues  of  the  abbey, 
and  within  twenty  of  Paris.  It  was  I  who  made 
known  to  him  that  his  abominations  had  been  discov- 
ered. He  was  in  no  way  disturbed,  declared  he  was 
glad  to  be  free,  and  assured  me  with  the  hypocrisy 
which  never  left  him,  that  in  his  solitude  he  was  go- 
ing to  occupy  himself  in  studying  the  Holy  Scriptures. 
Bonnceil,  introducer  of  the  ambassadors,  being  dead, 
Breteuil  obtained  his  post.  Breteuil  was  not  without 
intellect,  but  aped  courtly  manners,  called  himself 
Baron  de  Breteuil,  and  was  much  tormented  and 
laughed  at  by  his  friends.  One  day,  dining  at  the 
house  of  Madame  de  Pontchartrain,  and,  speaking 
very  authoritatively,  Madame  de  Pontchartrain  dis- 
puted with  him,  and,  to  test  his  knowledge,  offered  to 
make  a  bet  that  he  did  not  know  who  wrote  the  Lord's 
Prayer.  He  defended  himself  as  well  as  he  was  able, 
and  succeeded  in  leaving  the  table  without  being  called 
upon  to  decide  the  point.  Caumartin,  who  saw  his 
embarrassment,  ran  to  him,  and  kindly  whispered  in 
his  ear  that  Moses  was  the  author  of  the  Lord's 
Prayer.  Thus  strengthened,  Breteuil  returned  to  the 
attack,  brought,  while  taking  coffee,  the  conversation 
back  again  to  the  bet;  and,  after  reproaching  Madame 


184  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

de  Pontchartrain  for  supposing  him  ignorant  upon 
such  a  point,  and  declaring  he  was  ashamed  of  being 
obliged  to  say  such  a  trivial  thing,  pronounced  em- 
phatically that  it  was  Moses  who  had  written  the 
Lord's  Prayer.  The  burst  of  laughter  that,  of  course, 
followed  this,  overwhelmed  him  with  confusion.  Poor 
Breteuil  was  for  a  long  time  at  loggerheads  with  his 
friend,  and  the  Lord's  Prayer  became  a  standing  re- 
proach to  him. 

He  had  a  friend,  the  Marquis  de  Gesvres,  who,  upon 
some  points,  was  not  much  better  informed.  Talking 
one  day  in  the  cabinet  of  the  King,  and  admiring  in 
the  tone  of  a  connoisseur  some  fine  paintings  of  the 
Crucifixion  by  the  first  masters,  he  remarked  that  they 
were  all  by  one  hand. 

He  was  laughed  at,  and  the  different  painters  were 
named,  as  recognized  by  their  style. 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  the  Marquis,  "  the  painter  is  called 
Inri;  do  you  not  see  his  name  upon  all  the  pictures?  ': 
What  followed  after  such  gross  stupidity  and  ignorance 
may  be  imagined. 

At  the  end  of  this  year  the  King  resolved  to  under- 
take three  grand  projects,  which  ought  to  have  been 
carried  out  long  before:  the  chapel  of  Versailles,  the 
Church  of  the  Invalides,  and  the  altar  of  Notre-Dame 
de  Paris.  This  last  was  a  vow  of  Louis  XIII.,  made 
when  he  no  longer  was  able  to  accomplish  it,  and  which 
he  had  left  to  his  successor,  who  had  been  more  than 
fifty  years  without  thinking  of  it. 

On  the  6th  of  January,  upon  the  reception  of  the 
ambassadors  at  the  house  of  the  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne,  an  adventure  happened  which  I  will  here  re- 
late. M.  de  Lorraine  belonged  to  a  family  which  had 
been  noted  for  its  pretensions,  and  for  the  disputes 
of  precedency  in  which  it  engaged.  He  was  as  prone 
to  this  absurdity  as  the  rest,  and  on  this  occasion  in- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  185 

cited  the  Princesse  d'Harcourt,  one  of  his  relations, 
to  act  in  a  manner  that  scandalised  all  the  Court.  En- 
tering the  room  in  which  the  ambassadors  were  to  be 
received  and  where  a  large  number  of  ladies  were 
already  collected,  she  glided  behind  the  Duchesse  de 
Rohan,  and  told  her  to  pass  to  the  left.  The  Duchesse 
de  Rohan,  much  surprised,  replied  that  she  was  very 
well  placed  already.  Whereupon,  the  Princesse  d'Har- 
court, who  was  tall  and  strong,  made  no  farther  ado, 
but  with  her  two  arms  seized  the  Duchesse  de  Rohan, 
turned  her  round,  and  sat  down  in  her  place.  All  the 
ladies  were  strangely  scandalised  at  this,  but  none 
dared  say  a  word,  not  even  Madame  de  Lude,  lady  in 
waiting  on  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  who,  for  her 
part  also,  felt  the  insolence  of  the  act,  but  dared  not 
speak,  being  so  young.  As  for  the  Duchesse  de  Rohan, 
feeling  that  opposition  must  lead  to  fisticuffs,  she  curt- 
seyed to  the  Duchess,  and  quietly  retired  to  another 
place.  A  few  minutes  after  this,  Madame  de  Saint- 
Simon,  who  was  then  with  child,  feeling  herself  un- 
well, and  tired  of  standing,  seated  herself  upon  the 
first  cushion  she  could  find.  It  so  happened,  that  in 
the  position  she  thus  occupied,  she  had  taken  prece- 
dence of  Madame  d'Armagnac  by  two  degrees.  Ma- 
dame d'Armagnac,  perceiving  it,  spoke  to  her  upon 
the  subject.  Madame  de  Saint-Simon,  who  had  only 
placed  herself  there  for  a  moment,  did  not  reply,  but 
went  elsewhere. 

As  soon  as  I  learnt  of  the  first  adventure,  I  thought 
it  important  that  such  an  insult  should  not  be  borne, 
and  I  went  and  conferred  with  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld 
upon  the  subject,  at  the  same  time  that  Marechal  de 
Boufflers  spoke  of  it  to  M.  de  Noailles.  I  called  upon 
other  of  my  friends,  and  the  opinion  was  that  the  Due 
de  Rohan  should  complain  to  the  King  on  the  mor- 
row of  the  treatment  his  wife  had  received. 


1 86  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

In  the  evening  while  I  was  at  the  King's  supper,  I 
was  sent  for  by  Madame  de  Saint-Simon,  who  in- 
formed me  that  the  Lorraines,  afraid  of  the  complaints 
that  would  probably  be  addressed  to  the  King  upon 
what  had  taken  place  between  the  Princesse  d'Har- 
court  and  the  Duchesse  de  Rohan,  had  availed  them- 
selves of  what  happened  between  Madame  de  Saint- 
Simon  and  Madame  d'Armagnac,  in  order  to  be  the 
first  to  complain,  so  that  one  might  balance  the  other. 
Here  was  a  specimen  of  the  artifice  of  these  gentle- 
men, which  much  enraged  me.  On  the  instant  I  deter- 
mined to  lose  no  time  in  speaking  to  the  King;  and 
that  very  evening  I  related  what  had  occurred,  in  so 
far  as  Madame  de  Saint-Simon  was  concerned,  but 
made  no  allusion  to  M.  de  Rohan's  affair,  thinking 
it  best  to  leave  that  to  be  settled  by  itself  on  the 
morrow.  The  King  replied  to  me  very  graciously,  and 
I  retired,  after  assuring  him  that  all  I  had  said  was 
true  from  beginning  to  end. 

The  next  day  the  Due  de  Rohan  made  his  com- 
plaint. The  King,  who  had  already  been  fully  in- 
formed of  the  matter,  received  him  well,  praised  the 
respect  and  moderation  of  Madame  de  Rohan,  declared 
Madame  d'Harcourt  to  have  been  very  impertinent, 
and  said  some  very  hard  words  upon  the  Lorraines. 

I  found  afterwards,  that  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
who  much  favoured  Madame  d'Harcourt,  had  all  the 
trouble  in  the  world  to  persuade  the  King  not  to  ex- 
clude her  from  the  next  journey  to  Marly.  She  re- 
ceived a  severe  reprimand  from  the  King,  a  good 
scolding  from  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  was  com- 
pelled publicly  to  ask  pardon  of  the  Duchesse  de 
Rohan.  This  she  did;  but  with  a  crawling  base- 
ness equal  to  her  previous  audacity.  Such  was  the  end 
of  this  strange  history. 

There  appeared  at  this  time  a  book  entitled  "  Pro- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  187 

bleme,"  but  without  name  of  author,  and  directed 
against  M.  de  Paris,  declaring  that  he  had  uttered  sen- 
timents favourable  to  the  Jansenists  being  at  Cha- 
lons, and  unfavourable  being  at  Paris.  The  book  came 
from  the  Jesuits,  who  could  not  pardon  M.  de  Paris 
for  having  become  archbishop  without  their  assistance. 
It  was  condemned  and  burnt  by  decree  of  the  Parlia- 
ment, and  the  Jesuits  had  to  swallow  all  the  shame 
of  it.  The  author  was  soon  after  discovered.  He  was 
named  Boileau;  not  the  friend  of  Bontems,  who  so 
often  preached  before  the  King,  and  still  less  the  cele- 
brated poet  and  author  of  the  Flagellants,  but  a  doc- 
tor of  much  wit  and  learning  whom  M.  de  Paris  had 
taken  into  his  favour  and  treated  like  a  brother.  Who 
would  have  believed  that  "  Probleme "  could  spring 
from  such  a  man?  M.  de  Paris  was  much  hurt;  but 
dnstead  of  imprisoning  Boileau  for  the  rest  of  his  days, 
as  he  might  have  done,  he  acted  the  part  of  a  great 
bishop,  and  gave  him  a  good  canonical  of  Saint  Ho- 
nore,  which  became  vacant  a  few  days  afterwards. 
Boileau,  who  was  quite  without  means,  completed  his 
dishonour  by  accepting  it. 

The  honest  people  of  the  Court  regretted  a  cynic 
who  died  at  this  time,  I  mean  the  Chevalier  de  Coislin. 
He  was  a  most  extraordinary  man,  very  splenetic,  and 
very  difficult  to  deal  with.  He  rarely  left  Versailles, 
and  never  went  to  see  the  King.  I  have  seen  him  get 
out  of  the  way  not  to  meet  him.  He  lived  with  Cardi- 
nal Coislin,  his  brother.  If  anybody  displeased  him, 
he  would  go  and  sulk  in  his  own  room;  and  if,  whilst 
at  table,  any  one  came  whom  he  did  not  like,  he  would 
throw  away  his  plate,  go  off  to  sulk,  or  to  finish  his 
dinner  all  alone.  One  circumstance  will  paint  him 
completely.  Being  on  a  journey  once  with  his  broth- 
ers, the  Due  de  Coislin  and  the  Cardinal  de  Coislin, 
the  party  rested  for  the  night  at  the  house  of  a  viva- 


1 88  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

cious  and  very  pretty  bourgeoise.  The  Due  de  Coislin 
was  an  exceedingly  polite  man.  and  bestowed  amiable 
compliments  and  civilities  upon  their  hostess,  much  to 
the  disgust  of  the  Chevalier.  At  parting,  the  Duke  re- 
newed the  politeness  he  had  displayed  so  abundantly 
the  previous  evening,  and  delayed  the  others  by  his 
long-winded  flatteries.  When,  at  last,  they  left  the 
house,  and  were  two  or  three  leagues  away  from  it, 
the  Chevalier  de  Coislin  said,  that,  in  spite  of  all  this 
politeness,  he  had  reason  to  believe  that  their  pretty 
hostess  would  not  long  be  pleased  with  the  Duke.  The 
Duke,  disturbed,  asked  his  reason  for  thinking  so. 
"  Do  you  wish  to  learn  it?  "  said  the  Chevalier;  "  well, 
then,  you  must  know  that,  disgusted  by  your  compli- 
ments, I  went  up  into  the  bedroom  in  which  you  slept, 
and  made  a  filthy  mess  on  the  floor,  which  the  land- 
lady will  no  doubt  attribute  to  you,  despite  all  your 
fine  speeches." 

At  this  there  was  loud  laughter,  but  the  Duke  was 
in  fury,  and  wished  to  return  in  order  to  clear  up  his 
character.  Although  it  rained  hard,  they  had  all  the 
pains  in  the  world  to  hinder  him,  and  still  more  to 
bring  about  a  reconciliation.  Nothing  was  more  pleas- 
ant than  to  hear  the  brothers  relate  this  adventure 
each  in  his  own  way. 

Two  cruel  effects  of  gambling  were  noticed  at  this 
time.  Reineville,  a  lieutenant  of  the  body-guard,  a 
general  officer  distinguished  in  war,  very  well  treated 
by  the  King,  and  much  esteemed  by  the  captain  of  the 
Guards,  suddenly  disappeared,  and  could  not  be  found 
anywhere,  although  the  utmost  care  was  taken  to 
search  for  him.  He  loved  gaming.  He  had  lost  what 
he  could  not  pay.  He  was  a  man  of  honour,  and  could 
not  sustain  his  misfortune.  Twelve  or  fifteen  years 
afterwards  he  was  recognised  among  the  Bavarian 
troops,  in  which  he  was  serving  in  order  to  gain  his 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  189 

bread  and  to  live  unknown.  The  other  case  was  still 
worse.  Permillac,  a  man  of  much  intelligence  and 
talent,  had  lost  more  than  he  possessed,  and  blew  his 
brains  out  one  morning  in  bed.  He  was  much  liked 
throughout  the  army;  had  taken  a  friendship  for  me, 
and  I  for  him.  Everybody  pitied  him,  and  I  much  re- 
gretted him. 

Nearly  at  the  same  time  we  lost  the  celebrated 
Racine,  so  known  by  his  beautiful  plays.  No  one  pos- 
sessed a  greater  talent  or  a  more  agreeable  mien. 
There  was  nothing  of  the  poet  in  his  manners :  he  had 
the  air  of  a  well-bred  and  modest  man,  and  at  last 
that  of  a  good  man.  He  had  friends,  the  most  il- 
lustrious, at  the  Court  as  well  as  among  men  of  let- 
ters. I  leave  it  to  the  latter  to  speak  of  him  in  a 
better  way  than  I  can.  He  wrote,  for  the  amusement 
of  the  King  and  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  to  exer- 
cise the  young  ladies  of  Saint  Cyr,  two  dramatic  mas- 
terpieces, Esther  and  Athalie.  They  were  very  diffi- 
cult to  write,  because  there  could  be  no  love  in  them, 
and  because  they  are  sacred  tragedies,  in  which,  from 
respect  to  the  Holy  Scriptures,  it  was  necessary  rig- 
idly to  keep  to  the  historical  truth.  They  were  sev- 
eral times  played  at  Saint  Cyr  before  a  select  Court. 
Racine  was  charged  with  the  history  of  the  King,  con- 
jointly with  Despreaux,  his  friend.  This  employ- 
ment, the  pieces  I  have  just  spoken  of,  and  his  friends, 
gained  for  Racine  some  special  favours.  It  sometimes 
happened  that  the  King  had  no  ministers  with  him, 
as  on  Fridays,  and,  above  all,  when  the  bad  weather 
of  winter  rendered  the  sittings  very  long;  then  he 
would  send  for  Racine  to  amuse  him  and  Madame  de 
Maintenon.  Unfortunately  the  poet  was  oftentimes 
very  absent.  It  happened  one  evening  that,  talking 
with  Racine  upon  the  theatre,  the  King  asked  why 
comedy  was  so  much  out  of  fashion.     Racine  gave 


190  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

several  reasons,  and  concluded  by  naming  the  princi- 
pal,— namely,  that  for  want  of  new  pieces  the  come- 
dians gave  old  ones,  and,  amongst  others,  those  of 
Scarron,  which  were  worth  nothing,  and  which  found 
no  favour  with  anybody.  At  this  the  poor  widow 
blushed,  not  for  the  reputation  of  the  cripple  attacked, 
but  at  hearing  his  name  uttered  in  presence  of  his  suc- 
cessor! The  King  was  also  embarrassed,  and  the  un- 
happy Racine,  by  the  silence  which  followed,  felt  what 
a  slip  he  had  made.  He  remained  the  most  confounded 
of  the  three,  without  daring  to  raise  his  eyes  or  to 
open  his  mouth.  This  silence  did  not  terminate  for 
several  moments,  so  heavy  and  profound  was  the  sur- 
prise. The  end  was  that  the  King  sent  away  Racine, 
saying  he  was  going  to  work.  The  poet  never  after- 
wards recovered  his  position.  Neither  the  King  nor 
Madame  de  Maintenon  ever  spoke  to  him  again,  or 
even  looked  at  him;  and  he  conceived  so  much  sorrow 
at  this,  that  he  fell  into  a  languor,  and  died  two  years 
afterwards.  At  his  death,  Valincourt  was  chosen  to 
work  in  his  place  with  Despreaux  upon  the  history 
of  the  King. 

The  King,  who  had  just  paid  the  heavy  gaming  and 
tradesmen's  debts  of  Madame  la  Duchesse,  paid  also 
those  of  Monseigneur,  which  amounted  to  fifty  thou- 
sand francs,  undertook  the  payment  of  the  buildings 
at  Meudon,  and,  in  lieu  of  fifteen  hundred  pistoles  a 
month  which  he  had  allowed  Monseigneur,  gave  him 
fifty  thousand  crowns.  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld,  al- 
ways necessitous  and  pitiful  in  the  midst  of  riches,  a 
prey  to  his  servants,  obtained  an  increase  of  forty-two 
thousand  francs  a-year  upon  the  salary  he  received  as 
Grand  Veneur,  although  it  was  but  a  short  time  since 
the  King  had  paid  his  debts.  The  King  gave  also, 
but  in  secret,  twenty  thousand  francs  a-year  to  M.  de 
Chartres,   who  had   spent   so   much   in  journeys  and 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  191 

building  that  he  feared  he  should  be  unable  to  pay  his 
debts.  He  had  asked  for  an  abbey;  but  as  he  had 
already  one,  the  King  did  not  like  to  give  him  another, 
lest  it  should  be  thought  too  much. 

M.  de  Vendome  began  at  last  to  think  about  his 
health,  which  his  debauches  had  thrown  into  a  very 
bad  state.  He  took  public  leave  of  the  King  and  of 
all  the  Court  before  going  away,  to  put  himself 
in  the  hands  of  the  doctors.  It  was  the  first  and  only 
example  of  such  impudence.  From  this  time  he  lost 
ground.  The  King  said,  at  parting,  that  he  hoped 
he  would  come  back  in  such  a  state  that  people  might 
kiss  him  without  danger!  His  going  in  triumph, 
where  another  would  have  gone  in  shame  and  secrecy, 
was  startling  and  disgusting.  He  was  nearly  three 
months  under  the  most  skilful  treatment — and  re- 
turned to  the  Court  with  half  his  nose,  his  teeth  out, 
and  a  physiognomy  entirely  changed,  almost  idiotic. 
The  King  was  so  much  struck  by  this  change,  that  he 
recommended  the  courtiers  not  to  appear  to  notice  it, 
for  fear  of  afflicting  M.  de  Vendome.  That  was  tak- 
ing much  interest  in  him  assuredly.  As,  moreover, 
he  had  departed  in  triumph  upon  this  medical  expe- 
dition, so  he  returned  triumphant  by  the  reception  of 
the  King,  which  was  imitated  by  all  the  Court.  He 
remained  only  a  few  days,  and  then,  his  mirror  telling 
sad  tales,  went  away  to  Anet,  to  see  if  nose  and  teeth 
would  come  back  to  him  with  his  hair. 

A  strange  adventure,  which  happened  at  this  time, 
terrified  everybody,  and  gave  rise  to  many  surmises. 
Savary  was  found  assassinated  in  his  house  at  Paris: 
he  kept  only  a  valet  and  a  maid-servant,  and  they  were 
discovered  murdered  at  the  same  time,  quite  dressed, 
like  their  master,  and  in  different  parts  of  the  house. 
It  appeared  by  writings  found  there,  that  the  crime 
was  one  of  revenge:  it  was  supposed  to  have  been 


192  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

committed  in  broad  daylight.  Savary  was  a  citizen 
of  Paris,  very  rich,  without  occupation,  and  lived  like 
an  epicurean.  He  had  some  friends  of  the  highest 
rank,  and  gave  parties,  of  all  kinds  of  pleasure,  at  his 
house,  politics  sometimes  being  discussed.  The  cause 
of  this  assassination  was  never  known;  but  so  much 
of  it  was  found  out,  that  no  one  dared  to  search  for 
more.  Few  doubted  but  that  the  deed  had  been  done 
by  a  very  ugly  little  man,  but  of  a  blood  so  highly 
respected,  that  all  forms  were  dispensed  with,  in  the 
fear  lest  it  should  be  brought  home  to  him;  and,  after 
the  first  excitement,  everybody  ceased  to  speak  of  this 
tragic  history. 

On  the  night  between  the  3rd  and  4th  of  June,  a 
daring  robbery  was  effected  at  the  grand  stables  of 
Versailles.  All  the  horse-cloths  and  trappings,  worth 
at  least  fifty  thousand  crowns,  were  carried  off,  and 
so  cleverly  and  with  such  speed,  although  the  night 
was  short,  that  no  traces  of  them  could  ever  after- 
wards be  found.  This  theft  reminds  me  of  another 
which  took  place  a  little  before  the  commencement  of 
these  memoirs.  The  grand  apartment  at  Versailles, 
that  is  to  say,  from  the  gallery  to  the  tribune,  was 
hung  with  crimson  velvet,  trimmed  and  fringed  with 
gold.  One  fine  morning  the  fringe  and  trimmings 
were  all  found  to  have  been  cut  away.  This  appeared 
extraordinary  in  a  place  so  frequented  all  day,  so  well 
closed  at  night,  and  so  well  guarded  at  all  times. 
Bontems,  the  King's  valet,  was  in  despair,  and  did 
his  utmost  to  discover  the  thieves,  but  without  success. 

Five  or  six  days  afterwards,  I  was  at  the  King's 
supper,  with  nobody  but  Daquin,  chief  physician,  be- 
tween the  King  and  me,  and  nobody  at  all  between 
me  and  the  table.  Suddenly  I  perceived  a  large  black 
form  in  the  air,  but  before  I  could  tell  what  it  was,  it 
fell  upon  the  end  of  the  King's  table  just  before  the 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  193 

cover  which  had  been  laid  for  Monseigneur  and  Ma- 
dame. By  the  noise  it  made  in  falling,  and  the  weight 
of  the  thing  itself,  it  seemed  as  though  the  table  must 
be  broken.  The  plates  jumped  up,  but  none  were  up- 
set, and  the  thing,  as  luck  would  have  it,  did  not  fall 
upon  any  of  them,  but  simply  upon  the  cloth.  The 
King  moved  his  head  half  round,  and  without  being 
moved  in  any  way  said,  "  I  think  that  is  my  fringe!  " 

It  was  indeed  a  bundle,  larger  than  a  flat-brimmed 
priest's  hat,  about  two  feet  in  height,  and  shaped  like 
a  pyramid.  It  had  come  from  behind  me,  from  to- 
wards the  middle  door  of  the  two  ante-chambers,  and 
a  piece  of  fringe  getting  loose  in  the  air,  had  fallen 
upon  the  King's  wig,  from  which  it  was  removed  by 
Livry,  a  gentleman-in-waiting.  Livry  also  opened  the 
bundle,  and  saw  that  it  did  indeed  contain  the  fringes 
all  twisted  up,  and  everybody  saw  likewise.  A  mur- 
mur was  heard.  Livry  wishing  to  take  away  the  bun- 
dle found  a  paper  attached  to  it.  He  took  the  paper 
and  left  the  bundle.  The  King  stretched  out  his  hand 
and  said,  "  Let  us  see."  Livry,  and  with  reason, 
would  not  give  up  the  paper,  but  stepped  back,  read  it, 
and  then  passed  it  to  Daquin,  in  whose  hands  I  read 
it.  The  writing,  counterfeited  and  long  like  that  of  a 
woman,  was  in  these  words : — "  Take  back  your 
fringes,  Bontems;  they  are  not  worth  the  trouble  of 
keeping — my  compliments  to  the  King." 

The  paper  was  rolled  up,  not  folded:  the  King 
wished  to  take  it  from  Daquin,  who,  after  much  hesi- 
tation, allowed  him  to  read  it,  but  did  not  let  it  out 
of  his  hands.  "  Well,  that  is  very  insolent !  "  said  the 
King,  but  in  quite  a  placid  unmoved  tone — as  it  were, 
an  historical  tone.  Afterwards  he  ordered  the  bundle 
to  be  taken  away.  Livry  found  it  so  heavy  that  he 
could  scarcely  lift  it  from  the  table,  and  gave  it  to  an 
attendant  who  presented  himself.    The  King  spoke  no 


i94  DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON 

more  of  this  matter,  nobody  else  dared  to  do  so:  and 
the  supper  finished  as  though  nothing  had  happened. 

Besides  the  excess  of  insolence  and  impudence  of 
this  act.,  it  was  so  perilous  as  to  be  scarcely  under- 
stood. How  could  any  one.  without  being  seconded 
by  accomplices,  throw  a  bundle  of  this  weight  and 
volume  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  such  as  was  always 
present  at  the  supper  of  the  King,  so  dense  that  it 
could  with  difficulty  be  passed  through  ?  How,  in  spite 
of  a  circle  of  accomplices,  could  a  movement  of  the 
arms  necessary  for  such  a  throw  escape  all  eyes  ?  The 
Due  de  Gesvres  was  in  waiting.  Neither  he  nor  any- 
body else  thought  of  closing  the  doors  until  the  King 
had  left  the  table.  It  may  be  guessed  whether  the 
guilty  parties  remained  until  then,  having  had  more 
than  three-quarters  of  an  hour  to  escape,  and  every 
issue  being  free.  Only  one  person  was  discovered, 
who  was  not  known,  but  he  proved  to  be  a  very  hon- 
est man,  and  was  dismissed  after  a  short  detention. 
Nothing  has  since  been  discovered  respecting  this 
theft  or  its  bold  restitution. 


CHAPTER  XV 

ON  the  1 2th  August,  Madame  de  Saint-Simon 
was  happily  delivered  of  a  second  son,  who 
bore  the  name  of  Marquis  de  RufTec.  A  sin- 
gular event  which  happened  soon  after,  made  all  the 
world  marvel. 

There  arrived  at  Versailles  a  farrier,  from  the  little 
town  of  Salon,  in  Provence,  who  asked  to  see  the  King 
in  private.  In  spite  of  the  rebuffs  he  met  with,  he 
persisted  in  his  request,  so  that  at  last  it  got  to  the 
ears  of  the  King.  The  King  sent  word  that  he  was 
not  accustomed  to  grant  such  audiences  to  whoever 
liked  to  ask  for  them.  Thereupon  the  farrier  declared 
that  if  he  was  allowed  to  see  the  King  he  would  tell 
him  things  so  secret  and  so  unknown  to  everybody  else 
that  he  would  be  persuaded  of  their  importance,  de- 
manding, if  the  King  would  not  see  him,  to  be  sent  to 
a  minister  of  state.  Upon  this  the  King  allowed  him 
to  have  an  interview  with  one  of  his  secretaries,  Barbe- 
zieux.  But  Barbezieux  was  not  a  minister  of  state, 
and  to  the  great  surprise  of  everybody,  the  farrier,  who 
had  only  just  arrived  from  the  country,  and  who  had 
never  before  left  it  or  his  trade,  replied,  that  not  being 
a  minister  of  state  he  would  not  speak  with  him.  Upon 
this  he  was  allowed  to  see  Pomponne,  and  converse 
with  him;  and  this  is  the  story  he  told: 

He  said,  that  returning  home  late  one  evening  he 
found  himself  surrounded  by  a  great  light,  close 
against  a  tree  and  near  Salon.  A  woman  clad  in 
white — but  altogether  in  a  royal  manner,  and  beauti- 
ful, fair,  and  very  dazzling — called  him  by  his  name, 

^ol-   n  Memoirs— G 


196  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

commanded  him  to  listen  to  her,  and  spake  to  him 
more  than  half-an-hour.  She  told  him  she  was  the 
Queen,  who  had  been  the  wife  of  the  King;  to  whom 
she  ordered  him  to  go  and  say  what  she  had  com- 
municated; assuring  him  that  God  would  assist  him 
through  all  the  journey,  and  that  upon  a  secret  thing 
he  should  say,  the  King,  who  alone  knew  that  secret, 
would  recognise  the  truth  of  all  he  uttered.  She  said 
that  in  case  he  could  not  see  the  King  he  was  to  speak 
with  a  minister  of  state,  telling  him  certain  things, 
but  reserving  certain  others  for  the  King  alone.  She 
told  him,  moreover,  to  set  out  at  once,  assuring  him 
he  would  be  punished  with  death  if  he  neglected  to 
acquit  himself  of  his  commission.  The  farrier  prom- 
ised to  obey  her  in  everything,  and  the  Queen  then 
disappeared.  He  found  himself  in  darkness  near  the 
tree.  He  lay  down  and  passed  the  night  there, 
scarcely  knowing  whether  he  was  awake  or  asleep. 
In  the  morning  he  went  home,  persuaded  that  what  he 
had  seen  was  a  mere  delusion  and  folly,  and  said  noth- 
ing about  it  to  a  living  soul. 

Two  days  afterwards  he  was  passing  by  the  same 
place  when  the  same  vision  appeared  to  him,  and  he 
was  addressed  in  the  same  terms.  Fresh  threats  of 
punishment  were  uttered  if  he  did  not  comply,  and  he 
was  ordered  to  go  at  once  to  the  Intendant  of  the  prov- 
ince, who  would  assuredly  furnish  him  with  money, 
after  saying  what  he  had  seen.  This  time  the  farrier 
was  convinced  there  was  no  delusion  in  the  matter; 
but,  halting  between  his  fears  and  doubts,  knew  not 
what  to  do,  told  no  one  what  had  passed,  and  was  in 
great  perplexity.  He  remained  thus  eight  days,  and 
at  last  had  resolved  not  to  make  the  journey;  when, 
passing  by  the  same  spot,  he  saw  and  heard  the  same 
vision,  which  bestowed  upon  him  so  many  dreadful 
menaces  that  he  no  longer  thought  of  anything  but 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  197 

setting  out  immediately.  In  two  days  from  that  time 
he  presented  himself,  at  Aix,  to  the  Intendant  of  the 
province,  who,  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  urged 
him  to  pursue  his  journey,  and  gave  him  sufficient 
money  to  travel  by  a  public  conveyance.  Nothing 
more  of  the  story  was  ever  known. 

The  farrier  had  three  interviews  with  M.  de  Pom- 
ponne,  each  of  two  hours'  length.  M.  de  Pomponne 
rendered,  in  private,  an  account  of  these  to  the  King, 
who  desired  him  to  speak  more  fully  upon  the  point 
in  a  council  composed  of  the  Dues  de  Beauvilliers, 
Pontchartrain,  Torcy,  and  Pomponne  himself;  Mon- 
seigneur  to  be  excluded.  This  council  sat  very  long, 
perhaps  because  other  things  were  spoken  of.  Be  that 
as  it  may,  the  King  after  this  wished  to  converse  with 
the  farrier,  and  did  so  in  his  cabinet.  Two  days  after- 
wards he  saw  the  man  again,  at  each  time  was  nearly 
an  hour  with  him,  and  was  careful  that  no  one  was 
within  hearing. 

The  day  after  the  first  interview,  as  the  King  was 
descending  the  staircase,  to  go  a-hunting,  M.  de  Duras, 
who  was  in  waiting,  and  who  was  upon  such  a  foot- 
ing that  he  said  almost  what  he  liked,  began  to  speak 
of  this  farrier  with  contempt,  and,  quoting  the  bad 
proverb,  said,  "  The  man  was  mad,  or  the  King  was 
not  noble."  At  this  the  King  stopped,  and,  turning 
round,  a  thing  he  scarcely  ever  did  in  walking,  replied, 
"If  that  be  so,  I  am  not  noble,  for  I  have  discoursed 
with  him  long,  he  has  spoken  to  me  with  much  good 
sense,  and  I  assure  you  he  is  far  from  being  mad." 

These  last  words  were  pronounced  with  a  sustained 
gravity  which  greatly  surprised  those  near,  and  which 
in  the  midst  of  deep  silence  opened  all  eyes  and  ears. 
After  the  second  interview  the  King  felt  persuaded 
that  one  circumstance  had  been  related  to  him  by  the 
farrier,  which  he  alone  knew,  and  which  had  happened 


i9'S  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

more  than  twenty  years  before.  It  was  that  he  had 
seen  a  phantom  in  the  forest  of  Saint  Germains.  Of 
this  phantom  he  had  never  breathed  a  syllable  to 
anybody. 

The  King  on  several  other  occasions  spoke  favour- 
ably of  the  farrier;  moreover,  he  paid  all  the  expenses 
the  man  had  been  put  to,  gave  him  a  gratuity,  sent  him 
back  free,  and  wrote  to  the  Intendant  of  the  province 
to  take  particular  care  of  him,  and  never  to  let  him 
want  for  anything  all  his  life. 

The  most  surprising  thing  of  all  this  is,  that  none 
of  the  ministers  could  be  induced  to  speak  a  word 
upon  the  occurrence.  Their  most  intimate  friends 
continually  questioned  them,  but  without  being  able 
to  draw  forth  a  syllable.  The  ministers  either  affected 
to  laugh  at  the  matter  or  answered  evasively.  This 
was  the  case  whenever  I  questioned  M.  de  Beauvilliers 
or  M.  de  Pontchartrain,  and  I  knew  from  their  most 
intimate  friends  that  nothing  more  could  ever  be  ob- 
tained from  M.  de  Pomponne  or  M.  de  Torcy.  As 
for  the  farrier  himself,  he  was  equally  reserved.  He 
was  a  simple,  honest,  and  modest  man,  about  fifty 
years  of  age.  Whenever  addressed  upon  this  subject, 
he  cut  short  all  discourse  by  saying,  "  I  am  not  allowed 
to  speak,"  and  nothing  more  could  be  extracted  from 
him.  When  he  returned  to  his  home  he  conducted 
himself  just  as  before,  gave  himself  no  airs,  and  never 
boasted  of  the  interview  he  had  had  with  the  King 
and  his  ministers.  He  went  back  to  his  trade,  and 
worked  at  it  as  usual. 

Such  is  the  singular  story  which  filled  everybody 
with  astonishment,  but  which  nobody  could  under- 
stand. It  is  true  that  some  people  persuaded  them- 
selves, and  tried  to  persuade  others,  that  the  whole 
affair  was  a  clever  trick,  of  which  the  simple  farrier 
had  been  the  dupe.    They  said  that  a  certain  Madame 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  199 

Arnoul,  who  passed  for  a  witch,  and  who,  having 
known  Madame  de  Maintenon  when  she  was  Madame 
Scarron,  still  kept  up  a  secret  intimacy  with  her,  had 
caused  the  three  visions  to  appear  to  the  farrier,  in 
order  to  oblige  the  King  to  declare  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon  queen.  But  the  truth  of  the  matter  was  never 
known. 

The  King  bestowed  at  this  time  some  more  distinc- 
tions on  his  illegitimate  children.  M.  du  Maine,  as 
grand-master  of  the  artillery,  had  to  be  received  at  the 
Chambre  des  Comptes;  and  his  place  ought  to  have 
been,  according  to  custom,  immediately  above  that  of 
the  senior  member.  But  the  King  wished  him  to  be 
put  between  the  first  and  second  presidents;  and  this 
was  done.  The  King  accorded  also  to  the  Princesse 
de  Conti  that  her  two  ladies  of  honour  should  be 
allowed  to  sit  at  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne's  table. 
It  was  a  privilege  that  no  lady  of  honour  to  a  Prin- 
cess of  the  blood  had  ever  been  allowed.  But  the 
King  gave  these  distinctions  to  the  ladies  of  his  ille- 
gitimate children,  and  refused  it  to  those  of  the  Prin- 
cesses of  the  blood. 

In  thus  according  honours,  the  King  seemed  to 
merit  some  new  ones  himself.  But  nothing  fresh  could 
be  thought  of.  What  had  been  done  therefore  at  his* 
statue  in  the  Place  des  Victoires,  was  done  over  again 
in  the  Place  Vendome  on  the  13th  August,  after  mid- 
day. Another  statue  which  had  been  erected  there 
was  uncovered.  The  Due  de  Gesvres,  Governor  of 
Paris,  was  in  attendance  on  horseback,  at  the  head  of 
the  city  troops,  and  made  turns,  and  reverences,  and 
other  ceremonies,  imitated  from  those  in  use  at  the 
consecration  of  the  Roman  Emperors.  There  were, 
it  is  true,  no  incense  and  no  victims :  something  more 
in  harmony  with  the  title  of  Christian  King  was  neces- 
sary.   In  the  evening,  there  was  upon  the  river  a  fine 


200  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

illumination,  which  Monsieur  and  Madame  went 
to  see. 

A  difficulty  arose  soon  after  this  with  Denmark. 
The  Prince  Royal  had  become  King,  and  announced 
the  circumstance  to  our  King,  but  would  not  receive 
the  reply  sent  him  because  he  was  not  styled  in  it 
"  Majesty."  We  had  never  accorded  to  the  Kings  of 
Denmark  this  title,  and  they  had  always  been  con- 
tented with  that  of  "  Serenity."  The  King  in  his  turn 
would  not  wear  mourning  for  the  King  of  Denmark, 
just  dead,  although  he  always  did  so  for  any  crowned 
head,  whether  related  to  him  or  not.  This  state  of 
things  lasted  some  months;  until,  in  the  end,  the  new 
King  of  Denmark  gave  way,  received  the  reply  as  it 
had  been  first  sent,  and  our  King  wore  mourning  as 
if  the  time  for  it  had  not  long  since  passed. 

Boucherat,  chancellor  and  keeper  of  the  seals,  died 
on  the  2nd  of  September.  Harlay,  as  I  have  previ- 
ously said,  had  been  promised  this  appointment  when 
it  became  vacant.  But  the  part  he  had  taken  in  our 
case  with  M.  de  Luxembourg  had  made  him  so  lose 
ground,  that  the  appointment  was  not  given  to  him. 
M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld,  above  all,  had  undermined 
him  in  the  favour  of  the  King;  and  none  of  us  had 
lost  an  opportunity  of  assisting  in  this  work.  Our  joy, 
therefore,  was  extreme  when  we  saw  all  Harlay's 
hopes  frustrated,  and  we  did  not  fail  to  let  it  burst 
forth.  The  vexation  that  Harlay  conceived  was  so 
great,  that  he  became  absolutely  intractable,  and  often 
cried  out  with  a  bitterness  he  could  not  contain,  that 
he  should  be  left  to  die  in  the  dust  of  the  palace.  His 
weakness  was  such,  that  he  could  not  prevent  himself 
six  weeks  after  from  complaining  to  the  King  at  Fon- 
tainebleau,  where  he  was  playing  the  valet  with  his 
accustomed  suppleness  and  deceit.  The  King  put  him 
off  with  fine  speeches,  and  by  appointing  him  to  take 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  201 

part  in  a  commission  then  sitting  for  the  purpose  of 
bringing  about  a   reduction  in  the  price  of  corn  in 
Paris  and  the  suburbs,  where  it  had  become  very  dear. 
Harlay  made  a  semblance  of  being  contented,  but  re- 
mained not  the  less  annoyed.    His  health  and  his  head 
were  at  last  so  much  attacked  that  he  was  forced  to 
quit  his  post:  he  then  fell  into  contempt  after  having 
excited  so  much  hatred.    The  chancellorship  was  given 
to  Pontchartrain,  and  the  office  of  comptroller-general, 
which  became  vacant  at  the  same  time,  was  given  to 
Chamillart,  a  very  honest  man,  who  owed  his  first 
advancement  to  his  skill  at  billiards,  of  which  game 
the   King   was    formerly   very    fond.      It    was   while 
Chamillart  was  accustomed  to  play  billiards  with  the 
King,  at  least  three  times  a  week,  that  an  incident  hap- 
pened which  ought  not  to  be  forgotten.     Chamillart 
was  Counsellor  of  the  Parliament  at  that  time.     He 
had  just  reported  on  a  case  that  had  been  submitted 
to  him.    The  losing  party  came  to  him,  and  complained 
that  he  had  omitted  to  bring  forward  a  document  that 
had  been  given  into  his  hands,  and  that  would  assur- 
edly have  turned  the  verdict.     Chamillart  searched  for 
the  document,  found  it,  and  saw  that  the  complainer 
was  right.     He  said  so,  and  added, — "  I  do  not  know 
how  the  document  escaped  me,  but  it  decides  in  your 
favour.     You   claimed  twenty  thousand   francs,   and 
it  is  my  fault  you  did  not  get  them.    Come  to-morrow, 
and  I  will  pay  you."    Chamillart,  although  then  by  no 
means  rich,  scraped  together  all  the  money  he  had, 
borrowing  the  rest,  and  paid  the  man  as  he  had  prom- 
ised, only  demanding  that  the  matter  should  be  kept 
a  secret.     But  after  this,   feeling  that  billiards  three 
times  a  week  interfered  with  his  legal  duties,  he  sur- 
rendered part  of  them,  and  thus  left  himself  more  free 
for  other  charges  he  was  obliged  to  attend  to. 

The  Comtesse  de  Fiesque  died  very  aged,  while  the 


202  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

Court  was  at  Fontainebleau  this  year.  She  had  passed 
her  life  with  the  most  frivolous  of  the  great  world. 
Two  incidents  amongst  a  thousand  will  characterise 
her.  She  was  very  straitened  in  means,  because  she 
had  frittered  away  all  her  substance,  or  allowed  herself 
to  be  pillaged  by  her  business  people.  When  those 
beautiful  mirrors  were  first  introduced  she  obtained 
one,  although  they  were  then  very  dear  and  very  rare. 
"Ah,  Countess!"  said  her  friends,  "where  did  you 
find  that?" 

"Oh!"  replied  she,  "I  had  a  miserable  piece  of 
land,  which  only  yielded  me  corn;  I  have  sold  it,  and 
I  have  this  mirror  instead.  Is  not  this  excellent? 
Who  would  hesitate  between  corn  and  this  beautiful 
mirror?  " 

On  another  occasion  she  harangued  with  her  son, 
who  was  as  poor  as  a  rat,  for  the  purpose  of  persuad- 
ing him  to  make  a  good  match  and  thus  enrich  him- 
self. Her  son,  who  had  no  desire  to  marry,  allowed 
her  to  talk  on,  and  pretended  to  listen  to  her  reasons. 
She  was  delighted — entered  into  a  description  of  the 
wife  she  destined  for  him,  painting  her  as  young,  rich, 
an  only  child,  beautiful,  well-educated,  and  with 
parents  who  would  be  delighted  to  agree  to  the  mar- 
riage. When  she  had  finished,  he  pressed  her  for  the 
name  of  this  charming  and  desirable  person.  The 
Countess  said  she  was  the  daughter  of  Jacquier,  a 
man  well  known  to  everybody,  and  who  had  been  a 
contractor  of  provisions  to  the  armies  of  M.  de  Tu- 
renne.  Upon  this,  her  son  burst  out  into  a  hearty 
laugh,  and  she  in  anger  demanded  why  he  did  so. 
and  what  he  found  so  ridiculous  in  the  match. 

The  truth  was,  Jacquier  had  no  children,  as  the 
Countess  soon  remembered.  At  which  she  said  it  was 
a  great  pity,  since  no  marriage  would  have  better 
suited  all  parties.    She  was  full  of  such  oddities,  which 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  203 

she  persisted  in  for  some  time  with  anger,  but  at  which 
she  was  the  first  to  laugh.  People  said  of  her  that 
she  had  never  been  more  than  eighteen  years  old.  The 
memoirs  of  Mademoiselle  paint  her  well.  She  lived 
with  Mademoiselle,  and  passed  all  her  life  in  quarrels 
about  trifles. 

It  was  immediately  after  leaving  Fontainebleau  that 
the  marriage  between  the  Due  and  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne  was  consummated.  It  was  upon  this  occasion 
that  the  King  named  four  gentlemen  to  wait  upon  the 
Duke, — four  who  in  truth  could  not  have  been  more 
badly  chosen.  One  of  them,  Gamaches,  was  a  gossip, 
who  never  knew  what  he  was  doing  or  saying — who 
knew  nothing  of  the  world,  or  the  Court,  or  of  war, 
although  he  had  always  been  in  the  army.  D'O  was 
another;  but  of  him  I  have  spoken.  Cheverny  was 
the  third,  and  Saumery  the  fourth.  Saumery  had 
been  raised  out  of  obscurity  by  M.  de  Beauvilliers. 
Never  was  man  so  intriguing,  so  truckling,  so  mean, 
so  boastful,  so  ambitious,  so  intent  upon  fortune,  and 
all  this  without  disguise,  without  veil,  without  shame ! 
Saumery  had  been  wounded,  and  no  man  ever  made 
so  much  of  such  a  mishap.  I  used  to  say  of  him  that 
he  limped  audaciously,  and  it  was  true.  He  would 
speak  of  personages  the  most  distinguished,  whose 
ante-chambers  even  he  had  scarcely  seen,  as  though 
he  spoke  of  his  equals  or  of  his  particular  friends.  He 
related  what  he  had  heard,  and  was  not  ashamed  to 
say  before  people  who  at  least  had  common  sense, 
"  Poor  Mons.  Turenne  said  to  me,"  M.  de  Turenne 
never  having  probably  heard  of  his  existence.  With 
Monsieur  in  full  he  honoured  nobody.  It  was  Mons. 
de  Beauvilliers,  Mons.  de  Chevreuse,  and  so  on;  ex- 
cept with  those  whose  names  he  clipped  off  short,  as 
he  frequently  would  even  with  Princes  of  the  blood. 
I  have  heard  him  say  many  times,  "  the  Princesse  de 


204  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

Conti,"  in  speaking  of  the  daughter  of  the  King;  and 
"  the  Prince  de  Conti,"  in  speaking  of  Monsieur  her 
brother-in-law!  As  for  the  chief  nobles  of  the  Court, 
it  was  rare  for  him  to  give  them  the  Monsieur  or  the 
Mons.  It  was  Marechal  d'Humieres,  and  so  on  with 
the  others.  Fatuity  and  insolence  were  united  in  him, 
and  by  dint  of  mounting  a  hundred  staircases  a  day, 
and  bowing  and  scraping  everywhere,  he  had  gained 
the  ear  of  I  know  not  how  many  people.  His  wife  was 
a  tall  creature,  as  impertinent  as  he,  who  wore  the 
breeches,  and  before  whom  he  dared  not  breathe.  Her 
effrontery  blushed  at  nothing,  and  after  many  gal- 
lantries she  had  linked  herself  on  to  M.  de  Duras, 
whom  she  governed,  and  of  whom  she  was  publicly 
and  absolutely  the  mistress,  living  at  his  expense. 
Children,  friends,  servants,  all  were  at  her  mercy;  even 
Madame  de  Duras  herself  when  she  came,  which  was 
but  seldom,  from  the  country. 

Such  were  the  people  whom  the  King  placed  near 
M.  le  Due  de  Bourgogne. 

The  Due  de  Gesvres,  a  malicious  old  man,  a  cruel 
husband  and  unnatural  father,  sadly  annoyed  Mare- 
chal de  Villeroy  towards  the  end  of  this  year,  having 
previously  treated  me  very  scurvily  for  some  advice  I 
gave  him  respecting  the  ceremonies  to  be  observed  at 
the  reception  by  the  King  of  M.  de  Lorraine  as  Due 
de  Bar.  M.  de  Gesvres  and  M.  de  Villeroy  had  both 
had  fathers  who  made  large  fortunes  and  who  became 
secretaries  of  state.  One  morning  M.  de  Gesvres  was 
waiting  for  the  King,  with  a  number  of  other  cour- 
tiers, when  M.  de  Villeroy  arrived,  with  all  that  noise 
and  those  airs  he  had  long  assumed,  and  which  his 
favour  and  his  appointments  rendered  more  superb. 
I  know  not  whether  this  annoyed  De  Gesvres,  more 
than  usual,  but  as  soon  as  the  other  had  placed  him- 
self, he  said,  "  Monsieur  le  Marechal,  it  must  be  ad- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  205 

mitted  that  you  and  I  are  very  lucky."  The  Mare- 
chal,  surprised  at  a  remark  which  seemed  to  be  sug- 
gested by  nothing,  assented  with  a  modest  air,  and, 
shaking  his  head  and  his  wig,  began  to  talk  to  some 
one  else.  But  M.  de  Gesvres  had  not  commenced 
without  a  purpose.  He  went  on,  addressed  M.  de 
Villeroy  point-blank,  admiring  their  mutual  good  for- 
tune, but  when  he  came  to  speak  of  the  father  of 
each,  "  Let  us  go  no  further,"  said  he,  "  for  what  did 
our  fathers  spring  from?  From  tradesmen;  even 
tradesmen  they  were  themselves.  Yours  was  the  son 
of  a  dealer  in  fresh  fish  at  the  markets,  and  mine  of 
a  pedlar,  or,  perhaps,  worse.  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  ad- 
dressing the  company,  "  have  we  not  reason  to  think 
our  fortune  prodigious — the  Marechal  and  I  ?  "  The 
Marechal  would  have  liked  to  strangle  M.  de  Gesvres, 
or  to  see  him  dead — but  what  can  be  done  with  a  man 
who,  in  order  to  say  something  cutting  to  you,  says 
it  to  himself  first?  Everybody  was  silent,  and  all  eyes 
were  lowered.  Many,  however,  were  not  sorry  to  see 
M.  de  Villeroy  so  pleasantly  humiliated.  The  King 
came  and  put  an  end  to  the  scene,  which  was  the  talk 
of  the  Court  for  several  days. 

Omissions  must  be  repaired  as  soon  as  they  are  per- 
ceived. Other  matters  have  carried  me  away.  At 
the  commencement  of  April,  Ticquet,  Counsellor  at  the 
Parliament,  was  assassinated  in  his  own  house;  and 
if  he  did  not  die,  it  was  not  the  fault  of  his  porter,  or 
of  the  soldier  who  had  attempted  to  kill  him,  and  who 
left  him  for  dead,  disturbed  by  a  noise  they  heard. 
This  councillor,  who  was  a  very  poor  man,  had  com- 
plained to  the  King,  the  preceding  year,  of  the  conduct 
of  his  wife  with  Montgeorges,  captain  in  the  Guards, 
and  much  esteemed.  The  King  prohibited  Mont- 
georges from  seeing  the  wife  of  the  councillor  again. 

Such  having  been  the  case,  when  the  crime  was  at- 


■206  DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON 

tempted,  suspicion  fell  upon  Montgeorges  and  the  wife 
of  Ticquet,  a  beautiful,  gallant,  and  bold  woman,  who 
took  a  very  high  tone  in  the  matter.  She  was  advised 
to  fly,  and  one  of  my  friends  offered  to  assist  her  to 
do  so,  maintaining  that  in  all  such  cases  it  is  safer  to 
be  far  off  than  close  at  hand.  The  woman  would  listen 
to  no  such  advice,  and  in  a  few  days  she  was  no  longer 
able.  The  porter  and  the  soldier  were  arrested  and 
tortured,  and  Madame  Ticquet,  who  was  foolish 
enough  to  allow  herself  to  be  arrested,  also  under- 
went the  same  examination,  and  avowed  all.  She  was 
condemned  to  lose  her  head,  and  her  accomplice  to  be 
broken  on  the  wheel.  Montgeorges  managed  so  well, 
that  he  was  not  legally  criminated.  When  Ticquet 
heard  the  sentence,  he  came  with  all  his  family  to  the 
King,  and  sued  for  mercy.  But  the  King  would  not 
listen  to  him,  and  the  execution  took  place  on  Wednes- 
day, the  17th  of  June,  after  mid-day,  at  the  Greve. 
All  the  windows  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  and  of  the 
houses  in  the  Place  de  Greve,  in  the  streets  that  lead  to 
it  from  the  Conciergerie  of  the  palace  where  Madame 
Ticquet  was  confined,  were  filled  with  spectators,  men 
and  women,  many  of  title  and  distinction.  There  were 
even  friends  of  both  sexes  of  this  unhappy  woman, 
who  felt  no  shame  or  horror  in  going  there.  In  the 
streets  the  crowd  was  so  great  that  it  could  not  be 
passed  through.  In  general,  pity  was  felt  for  the  cul- 
prit; people  hoped  she  would  be  pardoned,  and  it  was 
because  they  hoped  so,  that  they  went  to  see  her  die. 
But  such  is  the  world;  so  unreasoning,  and  so  little 
in  accord  with  itself. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  year  1700  commenced  by  a  reform.  The 
King  declared  that  he  would  no  longer  bear  the 
expense  of  the  changes  that  the  courtiers  intro- 
duced into  their  apartments.  It  had  cost  him  more 
than  sixty  thousand  francs  since  the  Court  left  Fon- 
tainebleau.  It  is  believed  that  Madame  de  Mailly  was 
the  cause  of  this  determination  of  the  King;  for  dur- 
ing the  last  two  or  three  years  she  had  made  changes 
in  her  apartments  every  year. 

A  difficulty  occurred  at  this  time  which  much  mor- 
tified the  King.  Little  by  little  he  had  taken  all  the 
ambassadors  to  visit  Messieurs  du  Maine  and  de  Tou- 
louse, as  though  they  were  Princes  of  the  blood.  The 
nuncio,  Cavallerini,  visited  them  thus,  but  upon  his 
return  to  Rome  was  so  taken  to  task  for  it,  that  his 
successor,  Delfini,  did  not  dare  to  imitate  him.  The 
cardinals  considered  that  they  had  lowered  themselves, 
since  Richelieu  and  Mazarin,  by  treating  even  the 
Princes  of  the  blood  on  terms  of  equality,  and  giving 
them  their  hand,  which  had  not  been  customary  in  the 
time  of  the  two  first  ministers  just  named.  To  do  so 
to  the  illegitimate  offspring  of  the  King,  and  on  occa- 
sions of  ceremony,  appeared  to  them  monstrous.  Ne- 
gotiations were  carried  on  for  a  month,  but  Delfini 
would  not  bend,  and  although  in  every  other  respect 
he  had  afforded  great  satisfaction  during  his  nuncia- 
ture, no  farewell  audience  was  given  to  him,  nor  even 
a  secret  audience.  He  was  deprived  of  the  gift  of  a 
silver  vessel  worth  eighteen  hundred  francs,  that  it  was 
customary  to  present  to  the  cardinal  nuncios  at  their 

207 


208  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

departure :  and  he  went  away  without  saying  adieu  to 
anybody. 

Some  time  before,  M.  de  Monaco  had  been  sent  as 
ambassador  to  Rome.  He  claimed  to  be  addressed  by 
the  title  of  '  Highness,"  and  persisted  in  it  with  so 
much  obstinacy  that  he  isolated  himself  from  almost 
everybody,  and  brought  the  affairs  of  his  embassy 
nearly  to  a  standstill  by  the  fetters  he  imposed  upon 
them  in  the  most  necessary  transactions.  Tired  at  last 
of  the  resistance  he  met  with,  he  determined  to  refuse 
the  title  of  "  Excellence,"  although  it  might  fairly  be- 
long to  them,  to  all  who  refused  to  address  him  as 
"  Highness."  This  finished  his  affair;  for  after  that 
determination  no  one  would  see  him,  and  the  business 
of  the  embassy  suffered  even  more  than  before.  It  is 
difficult  to  comprehend  why  the  King  permitted  such  a 
man  to  remain  as  his  representative  at  a  foreign  Court. 

Madame  de  Navailles  died  on  the  14th  of  February. 
Her  mother,  Madame  de  Neuillant,  who  became  a 
widow,  was  avarice  itself.  I  cannot  say  by  what  ac- 
cident or  chance  it  was  that  Madame  de  Maintenon 
in  returning  young  and  poor  from  America,  where  she 
had  lost  her  father  and  mother,  fell  in  landing  at  Ro- 
chelle  into  the  hands  of  Madame  de  Neuillant,  who 
lived  in  Poitou.  Madame  de  Neuillant  took  home 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  but  could  not  resolve  to  feed 
her  without  making  her  do  something  in  return. 
Madame  de  Maintenon  was  charged  therefore  with  the 
key  of  the  granary,  had  to  measure  out  the  corn  and 
to  see  that  it  was  given  to  the  horses.  It  was  Ma- 
dame de  Neuillant  who  brought  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon to  Paris,  and  to  get  rid  of  her  married  her  to 
Scarron,  and  then  retired  into  Poitou. 

Madame  de  Navailles  was  the  eldest  daughter  of 
this  Madame  de  Neuillant,  and  it  was  her  husband,  M. 
de   Navailles,   who,  serving  under  M.   le   Prince  in 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  209 

Flanders,  received  from  that  General  a  strong  repri- 
mand for  his  ignorance.  M.  le  Prince  wanted  to  find 
the  exact  position  of  a  little  brook  which  his  maps  did 
not  mark.  To  assist  him  in  the  search,  M.  de  Navailles 
brought  a  map  of  the  world !  On  another  occasion, 
visiting  M.  Colbert,  at  Sceaux,  the  only  thing  M.  de 
Navailles  could  find  to  praise  was  the  endive  of  the 
kitchen  garden:  and  when  on  the  occasion  of  the  Hu- 
guenots the  difficulty  of  changing  religion  was  spoken 
of,  he  declared  that  if  God  had  been  good  enough  to 
make  him  a  Turk,  he  should  have  remained  so. 

Madame  de  Navailles  had  been  lady  of  honour  to 
the  Queen-mother,  and  lost  that  place  by  a  strange 
adventure. 

She  was  a  woman  of  spirit  and  of  virtue,  and  the 
young  ladies  of  honour  were  put  under  her  charge. 
The  King  was  at  this  time  young  and  gallant.  So 
long  as  he  held  aloof  from  the  chamber  of  the  young 
ladies,  Madame  de  Navailles  meddled  not,  but  she 
kept  her  eye  fixed  upon  all  that  she  controlled.  She 
soon  perceived  that  the  King  was  beginning  to  amuse 
himself,  and  immediately  after  she  found  that  a  door 
had  secretly  been  made  into  the  chamber  of  the  young 
ladies;  that  this  door  communicated  with  a  staircase 
by  which  the  King  mounted  into  the  room  at  night, 
and  was  hidden  during  the  day  by  the  back  of  a  bed 
placed  against  it.  Upon  this  Madame  de  Navailles 
held  counsel  with  her  husband.  On  one  side  was 
virtue  and  honour,  on  the  other,  the  King's  anger, 
disgrace,  and  exile.  The  husband  and  wife  did  not 
long  hesitate.  Madame  de  Navailles  at  once  took  her 
measures,  and  so  well,  that  in  a  few  hours  one  even- 
ing the  door  was  entirely  closed  up.  During  the  same 
night  the  King,  thinking  to  enter  as  usual  by  the  little 
staircase,  was  much  surprised  to  no  longer  find  a  door. 
He  groped,  he  searched,  he  could  not  comprehend  the 


210  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

disappearance  of  the  door,  or  by  what  means  it  had 
become  wall  again.  Anger  seized  him;  he  doubted 
not  that  the  door  had  been  closed  by  Madame  de 
Navailles  and  her  husband.  He  soon  found  that  such 
was  the  case,  and  on  the  instant  stripped  them  of  al- 
most all  their  offices,  and  exiled  them  from  the  Court. 
The  exile  was  not  long;  the  Queen-mother  on  her 
death-bed  implored  him  to  receive  back  Monsieur  and 
Madame  de  Navailles,  and  he  could  not  refuse.  They 
returned,  and  M.  de  Navailles  nine  years  afterwards 
was  made  Marechal  of  France.  After  this  Madame  de 
Navailles  rarely  appeared  at  the  Court.  Madame  de 
Maintenon  could  not  refuse  her  distinctions  and  spe- 
cial favours,  but  they  were  accorded  rarely  and  by  mo- 
ments. The  King  always  remembered  his  door ;  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon  always  remembered  the  hay  and 
barley  of  Madame  de  Neuillant,  and  neither  years 
nor  devotion  could  deaden  the  bitterness  of  the 
recollection. 

From  just  before  Candlemas-day  to  Easter  of  this 
year,  nothing  was  heard  of  but  balls  and  pleasures  of 
the  Court.  The  King  gave  at  Versailles  and  at  Marly 
several  masquerades,  by  which  he  was  much  amused, 
under  pretext  of  amusing  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne. 
At  one  of  these  balls  at  Marly  a  ridiculous  scene  oc- 
curred. Dancers  were  wanting  and  Madame  de  Lux- 
embourg on  account  of  this  obtained  an  invitation,  but 
with  great  difficulty,  for  she  lived  in  such  a  fashion 
that  no  woman  would  see  her.  Monsieur  de  Luxem- 
bourg was  perhaps  the  only  person  in  France  who  was 
ignorant  of  Madame  de  Luxembourg's  conduct.  He 
lived  with  his  wife  on  apparently  good  terms  and  as 
though  he  had  not  the  slightest  mistrust  of  her.  On 
this  occasion,  because  of  the  want  of  dancers,  the  King 
made  older  people  dance  than  was  customary,  and 
among  others  M.  de  Luxembourg.     Everybody  was 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  211 

compelled  to  be  masked.  M.  de  Luxembourg  spoke 
on  this  subject  to  M.  le  Prince,  who,  malicious  as  any 
monkey,  determined  to  divert  all  the  Court  and  him- 
self at  the  Duke's  expense.  He  invited  M.  de  Luxem- 
bourg to  supper,  and  after  that  meal  was  over,  masked 
him  according  to  his  fancy. 

Soon  after  my  arrival  at  the  ball,  I  saw  a  figure 
strangely  clad  in  long  flowing  muslin,  and  with  a  head- 
dress on  which  was  fixed  the  horns  of  a  stag,  so  high 
that  they  became  entangled  in  the  chandelier.  Of 
course  everybody  was  much  astonished  at  so  strange 
a  sight,  and  all  thought  that  that  mask  must  be  very- 
sure  of  his  wife  to  deck  himself  so.  Suddenly  the  mask 
turned  round  and  showed  us  M.  de  Luxembourg.  The 
burst  of  laughter  at  this  was  scandalous.  Good  M.  de 
Luxembourg,  who  never  was  very  remarkable  for  wit, 
benignly  took  all  this  laughter  as  having  been  excited 
simply  by  the  singularity  of  his  costume,  and  to  the 
questions  addressed  him,  replied  quite  simply  that  his 
dress  had  been  arranged  by  M.  le  Prince;  then,  turn- 
ing to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  he  admired  himself  and 
strutted  with  pleasure  at  having  been  masked  by 
M.  le  Prince.  In  a  moment  more  the  ladies  arrived, 
and  the  King  immediately  after  them.  The  laughter 
commenced  anew  as  loudly  as  ever,  and  M.  de  Luxem- 
bourg presented  himself  to  the  company  with  a  con- 
fidence that  was  ravishing.  His  wife  had  heard  noth- 
ing of  this  masquerading,  and  when  she  saw  it,  lost 
countenance,  brazen  as  she  was.  Everybody  stared 
at  her  and  her  husband,  and  seemed  dying  of  laughter. 
M.  le  Prince  looked  at  the  scene  from  behind  the  King, 
and  inwardly  laughed  at  his  malicious  trick.  This 
amusement  lasted  throughout  all  the  ball,  and  the 
King,  self-contained  as  he  usually  was,  laughed  also; 
people  were  never  tired  of  admiring  an  invention  so 
cruelly  ridiculous,  and  spoke  of  it  for  several  days. 


212  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

No  evening  passed  on  which  there  was  not  a  ball. 
The  chancellor's  wife  gave  one  which  was  a  fete  the 
most  gallant  and  the  most  magnificent  possible.  There 
were  different  rooms  for  the  fancy-dress  ball,  for  the 
masqueraders,  for  a  superb  collation,  for  shops  of  all 
countries,  Chinese,  Japanese,  &c,  where  many  singular 
and  beautiful  things  were  sold,  but  no  money  taken; 
they  were  presents  for  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne 
and  the  ladies.  Everybody  was  especially  diverted  at 
this  entertainment,  which  did  not  finish  until  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  Madame  de  Saint-Simon  and 
I  passed  the  last  three  weeks  of  this  time  without  ever 
seeing  the  day.  Certain  dancers  were  only  allowed  to 
leave  off  dancing  at  the  same  time  as  the  Duchesse  de 
Bourgogne.  One  morning,  at  Marly,  wishing  to  es- 
cape too  early,  the  Duchess  caused  me  to  be  forbidden 
to  pass  the  doors  of  the  salon;  several  of  us  had  the 
same  fate.  I  was  delighted  when  Ash  Wednesday  ar- 
rived; and  I  remained  a  day  or  two  dead  beat,  and 
Madame  de  Saint-Simon  could  not  get  over  Shrove 
Tuesday. 

La  Bourlie,  brother  of  Guiscard,  after  having  quit- 
ted the  service,  had  retired  to  his  estate  near  Cevennes, 
where  he  led  a  life  of  much  licence.  About  this  time 
a  robbery  was  committed  in  his  house;  he  suspected 
one  of  the  servants,  and  on  his  own  authority  put  the 
man  to  the  torture.  This  circumstance  could  not  re- 
main so  secret  but  that  complaints  spread  abroad.  The 
offence  was  a  capital  one.  La  Bourlie  fled  from  the 
realm,  and  did  many  strange  things  until  his  death, 
which  was  still  more  strange;  but  of  which  it  is  not 
yet  time  to  speak. 

Madame  la  Duchesse,  whose  heavy  tradesmen's 
debts  the  King  had  paid  not  long  since,  had  not  dared 
to  speak  of  her  gambling  debts,  also  very  heavy.  They 
increased,  and,  entirely  unable  to  pay  them,  she  found 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  '213 

herself  in  the  greatest  embarrassment.  She  feared, 
above  all  things,  lest  M.  le  Prince  or  M.  le  Due  should 
hear  of  this.  In  this  extremity  she  addressed  herself 
to  Madame  de  Maintenon,  laying  bare  the  state  of  her 
finances,  without  the  slightest  disguise.  Madame  de 
Maintenon  had  pity  on  her  situation,  and  arranged  that 
the  King  should  pay  her  debts,  abstain  from  scolding 
her,  and  keep  her  secret.  Thus,  in  a  few  weeks,  Ma- 
dame la  Duchesse  found  herself  free  of  debts,  without 
anybody  whom  she  feared  having  known  even  of  their 
existence. 

Langlee  was  entrusted  with  the  payment  and  ar- 
rangement of  these  debts.  He  was  a  singular  kind 
of  man  at  the  Court,  and  deserves  a  word.  Born  of 
obscure  parents,  who  had  enriched  themselves,  he  had 
early  been  introduced  into  the  great  world,  and  had 
devoted  himself  to  play,  gaining  an  immense  fortune; 
but  without  being  accused  of  the  least  unfairness. 
With  but  little  or  no  wit,  but  much  knowledge  of  the 
world,  he  had  succeeded  in  securing  many  friends,  and 
in  making  his  way  at  the  Court.  He  joined  in  all  the 
King's  parties,  at  the  time  of  his  mistresses.  Similar- 
ity of  tastes  attached  Langlee  to  Monsieur,  but  he 
never  lost  sight  of  the  King.  At  all  the  fetes  Langlee 
was  present,  he  took  part  in  the  journeys,  he  was  in- 
vited to  Marly,  was  intimate  with  all  the  King's  mis- 
tresses; then  with  all  the  daughters  of  the  King,  with 
whom  indeed  he  was  so  familiar  that  he  often  spoke 
to  them  with  the  utmost  freedom.  He  had  become 
such  a  master  of  fashions  and  of  fetes  that  none  of 
the  latter  were  given,  even  by  Princes  of  the  blood, 
except  under  his  directions;  and  no  houses  were 
bought,  built,  furnished,  or  ornamented,  without  his 
taste  being  consulted.  There  were  no  marriages  of 
which  the  dresses  and  the  presents  were  not  chosen, 
or  at  least  approved,  by  him.     He  was  on  intimate 


214  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

terms  with  the  most  distinguished  people  of  the  Court; 
and  often  took  improper  advantage  of  his  position.  To 
the  daughters  of  the  King  and  to  a  number  of  female 
friends  he  said  horribly  filthy  things,  and  that  too 
in  their  own  houses,  at  St.  Cloud  or  at  Marly.  He 
was  often  made  a  confidant  in  matters  of  gallantry, 
and  continued  to  be  made  so  all  his  life.  For  he  was 
a  sure  man,  had  nothing  disagreeable  about  him,  was 
obliging,  always  ready  to  serve  others  with  his  purse 
or  his  influence,  and  was  on  bad  terms  with  no 
one. 

While  everybody,  during  all  this  winter,  was  at  balls 
and  amusements,  the  beautiful  Madame  de  Soubise — 
for  she  was  so  still — employed  herself  with  more  seri- 
ous matters.  She  had  just  bought,  very  cheap,  the  im- 
mense Hotel  de  Guise,  that  the  King  assisted  her  to 
pay  for.  Assisted  also  by  the  King,  she  took  steps  to 
make  her  bastard  son  canon  of  Strasbourg;  intrigued 
so  well  that  his  birth  was  made  to  pass  muster,  al- 
though among  Germans  there  is  a  great  horror  of  il- 
legitimacy, and  he  was  received  into  the  chapter.  This 
point  gained,  she  laid  her  plans  for  carrying  out  an- 
other, and  a  higher  one,  nothing  less  than  that  of  mak- 
ing her  son  Archbishop  of  Strasbourg. 

But  there  was  an  obstacle  in  the  way.  This  obstacle 
was  the  Abbe  d'Auvergne  (nephew  of  Cardinal  de 
Bouillon),  who  had  the  highest  position  in  the  chap- 
ter, that  of  Grand  Prevot,  had  been  there  much  longer 
than  the  Abbe  de  Soubise,  was  older,  and  of  more  con- 
sequence. His  reputation,  however,  was  against  him; 
his  habits  were  publicly  known  to  be  those  of  the 
Greeks,  whilst  his  intellect  resembled  theirs  in  no  way. 
By  his  stupidity  he  published  his  bad  conduct,  his  per- 
fect ignorance,  his  dissipation,  his  ambition;  and  to 
sustain  himself  he  had  only  a  low,  stinking,  continual 
yanity, — which  drew  upon  him  as  much  disdain  as  did 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  215 

his  habits,  alienated  him  from  all  the  world,  and  con- 
stantly subjected  him  to  ridicule. 

The  Abbe  de  Soubise  had,  on  the  contrary,  every- 
thing smiling  in  his  favour,  even  his  exterior,  which 
showed  that  he  was  born  of  the  tenderest  amours. 
Upon  the  forms  of  the  Sorbonne  he  had  much  dis- 
tinguished himself.  He  had  been  made  Prior  of  Sor- 
bonne, and  had  shone  conspicuously  in  that  position, 
gaining  eulogies  of  the  most  flattering  kind  from 
everybody,  and  highly  pleasing  the  King.  After  this, 
he  entered  the  seminary  of  Saint  Magloire,  then  much 
in  vogue,  and  gained  the  good  graces  of  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Paris,  by  whom  that  seminary  was  favoured. 
On  every  side  the  Abbe  de  Soubise  was  regarded, 
either  as  a  marvel  of  learning,  or  a  miracle  of  piety 
and  purity  of  manners.  He  had  made  himself  loved 
everywhere,  and  his  gentleness,  his  politeness,  his  in- 
telligence, his  graces,  and  his  talent  for  securing 
friends,  confirmed  more  and  more  the  reputation  he 
had  established. 

The  Abbe  d'Auvergne  had  a  relative,  the  Cardinal 
de  Furstenberg,  who  also  had  two  nephews,  canons 
of  Strasbourg,  and  in  a  position  to  become  claimants 
to  the  bishopric.  Madame  de  Soubise  rightly  thought 
that  her  first  step  must  be  to  gain  over  the  Cardinal  to 
her  side.  There  was  a  channel  through  which  this 
could  be  done  which  at  once  suggested  itself  to  her 
mind.  Cardinal  Furstenberg,  it  was  said,  had  been 
much  enamoured  of  the  Comtesse  de  La  Marck,  and 
had  married  her  to  one  of  his  nephews,  in  order  that 
he  might  thus  see  her  more  easily.  It  was  also  said 
that  he  had  been  well  treated,  and  it  is  certain  that 
nothing  was  so  striking  as  the  resemblance,  feature  for 
feature,  of  the  Comte  de  La  Marck  to  Cardinal  de 
Furstenberg.  If  the  Count  was  not  the  son  of  the 
Cardinal  he  was  nothing  to  him.     The  attachment  of 


216  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

Cardinal  Furstenberg  for  the  Comtesse  de  La  Marck 
did  not  abate  when  she  became  by  her  marriage  Com- 
tesse de  Furstenberg;  indeed  he  could  not  exist  with- 
out her;  she  lived  and  reigned  in  his  house.  Her  son, 
the  Comte  de  La  Marck,  lived  there  also,  and  her  do- 
minion over  the  Cardinal  was  so  public,  that  whoever 
had  affairs  with  him  spoke  to  the  Countess,  if  he 
wished  to  succeed.  She  had  been  very  beautiful,  and 
at  fifty-two  years  of  age,  still  showed  it,  although  tall, 
stout,  and  coarse  featured  as  a  Swiss  guard  in  woman's 
clothes.  She  was,  moreover,  bold,  audacious,  talking 
loudly  and  always  with  authority;  was  polished,  how- 
ever, and  of  good  manners  when  she  pleased.  Being 
the  most  imperious  woman  in  the  world,  the  Cardinal 
was  fairly  tied  to  her  apron-strings,  and  scarcely  dared 
to  breathe  in  her  presence.  In  dress  and  finery  she 
spent  like  a  prodigal,  played  every  night,  and  lost 
large  sums,  oftentimes  staking  her  jewels  and  her  va- 
rious ornaments.  She  was  a  woman  who  loved  herself 
alone,  who  wished  for  everything,  and  who  refused 
herself  nothing,' — not  even,  it  was  said,  certain  gal- 
lantries which  the  poor  Cardinal  was  obliged  to  pay 
for,  as  for  everything  else.  Her  extravagance  was 
such,  that  she  was  obliged  to  pass  six  or  seven  months 
of  the  year  in  the  country,  in  order  to  have  enough 
to  spend  in  Paris  during  the  remainder  of  the 
year. 

It  was  to  the  Comtesse  de  Furstenberg,  therefore, 
that  Madame  de  Soubise  addressed  herself  in  order  to 
gain  over  the  support  of  Cardinal  de  Furstenberg,  in 
behalf  of  her  son.  Rumour  said,  and  it  was  never  con- 
tradicted, that  Madame  de  Soubise  paid  much  money 
to  the  Cardinal  through  the  Countess,  in  order  to  carry 
this  point.  It  is  certain  that  in  addition  to  the  pro- 
digious pensions  the  Cardinal  drew  from  the  King,  he 
touched  at  this  time  a  gratification  of  forty  thousand 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  217 

crowns,  that  it  was  pretended  had  been  long  prom- 
ised him. 

Madame  de  Soubise  having  thus  assured  herself  of 
the  Countess  and  the  Cardinal  (and  they  having  been 
privately  thanked  by  the  King),  she  caused  an  order 
to  be  sent  to  Cardinal  de  Bouillon,  who  was  then  at 
Rome,  requesting  him  to  ask  the  Pope  in  the  name  of 
the  King,  for  a  bull  summoning  the  Chapter  of  Stras- 
bourg to  meet  and  elect  a  coadjutor  and  a  declaration 
of  the  eligibility  of  the  Abbe  de  Soubise. 

But  here  a  new  obstacle  arose  in  the  path  of  Madame 
de  Soubise.  Cardinal  de  Bouillon,  a  man  of  excessive 
pride  and  pretension,  who  upon  reaching  Rome 
claimed  to  be  addressed  as  "  Most  Eminent  High- 
ness," and  obtaining  this  title  from  nobody  except  his 
servants,  set  himself  at  loggerheads  with  all  the  city — 
Cardinal  de  Bouillon,  I  say,  was  himself  canon  of 
Strasbourg,  and  uncle  of  the  Abbe  d'Auvergne.  So 
anxious  was  the  Cardinal  to  secure  the  advancement  of 
the  Abbe  d'Auvergne,  that  he  had  already  made  a  dar- 
ing and  fraudulent  attempt  to  procure  for  him  a  cardi- 
nalship.  But  the  false  representations  which  he  made 
in  order  to  carry  his  point,  having  been  seen  through, 
his  attempt  came  to  nothing,  and  he  himself  lost  all 
favour  with  the  King  for  his  deceit.  He,  however, 
hoped  to  make  the  Abbe  d'Auvergne  bishop  of  Stras- 
bourg, and  was  overpowered,  therefore,  when  he  saw 
this  magnificent  prey  about  to  escape  him.  The  news 
came  upon  him  like  a  thunderbolt.  It  was  bad  enough 
to  see  his  hopes  trampled  under  foot;  it  was  insup- 
portable to  be  obliged  to  aid  in  crushing  them.  Vexa- 
tion so  transported  and  blinded  him,  that  he  forgot  the 
relative  positions  of  himself  and  of  Madame  de  Sou- 
bise, and  imagined  that  he  should  be  able  to  make  the 
King  break  a  resolution  he  had  taken,  and  an  engage- 
ment  he   had   entered   into.      He   sent   therefore,   as 


218  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

though  he  had  been  a  great  man,  a  letter  to  the  King, 
telling  him  that  he  had  not  thought  sufficiently  upon 
this  matter,  and  raising  scruples  against  it.  At  the 
same  time  he  despatched  a  letter  to  the  canons  of  Stras- 
bourg, full  of  gall  and  compliments,  trying  to  persuade 
them  that  the  Abbe  de  Soubise  was  too  young  for  the 
honour  intended  him,  and  plainly  intimating  that  the 
Cardinal  de  Furstenberg  had  been  gained  over  by  a 
heavy  bribe  paid  to  the  Comtesse  de  Furstenberg. 
These  letters  made  a  terrible  uproar. 

I  was  at  the  palace  on  Tuesday,  March  30th,  and 
after  supper  I  saw  Madame  de  Soubise  arrive,  leading 
the  Comtesse  de  Furstenberg,  both  of  whom  posted 
themselves  at  the  door  of  the  King's  cabinet.  It  was 
not  that  Madame  de  Soubise  had  not  the  privilege  of 
entering  if  she  pleased,  but  she  preferred  making  her 
complaint  as  public  as  the  charges  made  against  her  by 
Cardinal  de  Bouillon  had  become.  I  approached  in 
order  to  witness  the  scene.  Madame  de  Soubise  ap- 
peared scarcely  able  to  contain  herself,  and  the 
Countess  seemed  furious.  As  the  King  passed,  they 
stopped  him.  Madame  de  Soubise  said  two  words  in 
a  low  tone.  The  Countess  in  a  louder  strain  demanded 
justice  against  the  Cardinal  de  Bouillon,  who,  she  said, 
not  content  in  his  pride  and  ambition  with  disregard- 
ing the  orders  of  the  King,  had  calumniated  her  and 
Cardinal  de  Furstenberg  in  the  most  atrocious  man- 
ner, and  had  not  even  spared  Madame  de  Soubise  her- 
self. The  King  replied  to  her  with  much  politeness, 
assured  her  she  should  be  contented,  and  passed  on. 

Madame  de  Soubise  was  so  much  the  more  piqued 
because  Cardinal  de  Bouillon  had  acquainted  the  King 
with  the  simony  she  had  committed,  and  assuredly  if 
•  he  had  not  been  ignorant  of  this  he  would  never  have 
supported  her  in  the  affair.  She  hastened  therefore 
to  secure  the  success  of  her  son,  and  was  so  well  served 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  219 

by  the  whispered  authority  of  the  King,  and  the  money 
she  had  spent,  that  the  Abbe  de  Soubise  was  elected 
by  unanimity  Coadjutor  of  Strasbourg. 

As  for  the  Cardinal  de  Bouillon,  foiled  in  all  his  at- 
tempts to  prevent  the  election,  he  wrote  a  second  let- 
ter to  the  King,  more  foolish  than  the  first.  This  filled 
the  cup  to  overflowing.  For  reply,  he  received  orders, 
by  a  courier,  to  quit  Rome  immediately  and  to  retire 
to  Cluni  or  to  Tournus,  at  his  choice,  until  further 
orders.  This  order  appeared  so  cruel  to  him  that  he 
could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  obey.  He  was  under- 
doyen  of  the  sacred  college.  Cibo,  the  doyen,  was  no 
longer  able  to  leave  his  bed.  To  become  doyen,  it 
was  necessary  to  be  in  Rome  when  the  appointment 
became  vacant.  Cardinal  de  Bouillon  wrote  therefore 
to  the  King,  begging  to  be  allowed  to  stay  a  short 
time,  in  order  to  pray  the  Pope  to  set  aside  this  rule, 
and  give  him  permission  to  succeed  to  the  doyenship, 
even  although  absent  from  Rome  when  it  became 
vacant.  He  knew  he  should  not  obtain  this  permis- 
sion, but  he  asked  for  it  in  order  to  gain  time,  hoping 
that  in  the  meanwhile  Cardinal  Cibo  might  die,  or  even 
the  Pope  himself,  whose  health  had  been  threatened 
with  ruin  for  some  time.  This  request  of  the  Cardinal 
de  Bouillon  was  refused.  There  seemed  nothing  for 
him  but  to  comply  with  the  orders  he  had  received. 
But  he  had  evaded  them  so  long  that  he  thought  he 
might  continue  to  do  so.  He  wrote  to  Pere  la  Chaise, 
begging  him  to  ask  the  King  for  permission  to  remain 
at  Rome  until  the  death  of  Cardinal  Cibo,  adding  that 
he  would  wait  for  a  reply  at  Caprarole,  a  magnificent 
house  of  the  Duke  of  Parma,  at  eight  leagues  from 
Rome.  He  addressed  himself  to  Pere  la  Chaise,  be- 
cause M.  de  Torcy,  to  whom  he  had  previously  writ- 
ten, had  been  forbidden  to  open  his  letters,  and  had 
sent  him  word  to  that  effect.     Having,  too,  been  al- 


220  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

ways  on  the  best  of  terms  with  the  Jesuits,  he  hoped 
for  good  assistance  from  Pere  la  Chaise.  But  he  found 
this  door  closed  like  that  of  M.  de  Torcy.  Pere  la 
Chaise  wrote  to  Cardinal  de  Bouillon  that  he  too  was 
prohibited  from  opening  his  letters.  At  the  same  time 
a  new  order  was  sent  to  the  Cardinal  to  set  out  im- 
mediately. Just  after  he  had  read  it  Cardinal  Cibo 
died,  and  the  Cardinal  de  Bouillon  hastened  at  once 
to  Rome  to  secure  the  doyenship,  writing  to  the  King 
to  say  that  he  had  done  so,  that  he  would  depart  in 
twenty-four  hours,  and  expressing  a  hope  that  this 
delay  would  not  be  refused  him.  This  was  laughing 
at  the  King  and  his  orders,  and  becoming  doyen  in 
spite  of  him.  The  King,  therefore,  displayed  his  anger 
immediately  he  learnt  this  last  act  of  disobedience.  He 
sent  word  immediately  to  M.  de  Monaco  to  command 
the  Cardinal  de  Bouillon  to  surrender  his  charge  of 
grand  chaplain,  to  give  up  his  cordon  bleu,  and  to  take 
down  the  arms  of  France  from  the  door  of  his  palace; 
M.  de  Monaco  was  also  ordered  to  prohibit  all  French 
people  in  Rome  from  seeing  Cardinal  de  Bouillon,  or 
from  having  any  communication  with  him.  M.  de 
Monaco,  who  hated  the  Cardinal,  hastened  willingly 
to  obey  these  instructions.  The  Cardinal  appeared 
overwhelmed,  but  he  did  not  even  then  give  in.  He 
pretended  that  his  charge  of  grand  chaplain  was  a 
crown  office,  of  which  he  could  not  be  dispossessed, 
without  resigning.  The  King,  out  of  all  patience  with 
a  disobedience  so  stubborn  and  so  marked,  ordered,  by 
a  decree  in  council,  on  the  12th  September,  the  seizure 
of  all  the  Cardinal's  estates,  laical  and  ecclesiastical, 
the  latter  to  be  confiscated  to  the  state,  the  former  to 
be  divided  into  three  portions,  and  applied  to  various 
uses.  The  same  day  the  charge  of  grand  chaplain  was 
given  to  Cardinal  Coislin,  and  that  of  chief  chaplain 
to  the  Bishop  of  Metz.     The  despair  of  the  Cardinal 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  221 

de  Bouillon,  on  hearing  of  this  decree,  was  extreme. 
Pride  had  hitherto  hindered  him  from  believing  that 
matters  would  be  pushed  so  far  against  him.  He  sent 
in  his  resignation  only  when  it  was  no  longer  needed 
of  him.  His  order  he  would  not  give  up.  M.  de 
Monaco  warned  him  that,  in  case  of  refusal,  he  had 
orders  to  snatch  it  from  his  neck.  Upon  this  the  Car- 
dinal saw  the  folly  of  holding  out  against  the  orders 
of  the  King.  He  quitted  then  the  marks  of  the  order, 
but  he  was  pitiful  enough  to  wear  a  narrow  blue  rib- 
bon, with  a  cross  of  gold  attached,  under  his  cassock, 
and  tried  from  time  to  time  to  show  a  little  of  the 
blue.  A  short  time  afterwards,  to  make  the  best  of  a 
bad  bargain,  he  tried  to  persuade  himself  and  others, 
that  no  cardinal  was  at  liberty  to  wear  the  orders  of 
any  prince.  But  it  was  rather  late  in  the  day  to  think 
of  this,  after  having  worn  the  order  of  the  King  for 
thirty  years,  as  grand  chaplain;  and  everybody  thought 
so,  and  laughed  at  the  idea. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

CHATEAUNEUF,  Secretary  of  State,  died 
about  this  time.  He  had  asked  that  his  son, 
La  Vrilliere,  might  be  allowed  to  succeed  him, 
and  was  much  vexed  that  the  King  refused  this  fa- 
vour. The  news  of  Chateauneuf's  death  was  brought 
to  La  Vrilliere  by  a  courier,  at  five  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  He  did  not  lose  his  wits  at  the  news,  but  at 
once  sent  and  woke  up  the  Princesse  d'Harcourt,  and 
begged  her  to  come  and  see  him  instantly.  Opening 
his  purse,  he  prayed  her  to  go  and  see  Madame  de 
Maintenon  as  soon  as  she  got  up,  and  propose  his 
marriage  with  Mademoiselle  de  Mailly,  whom  he 
would  take  without  dowry,  if  the  King  gave  him  his 
father's  appointments.  The  Princesse  d'Harcourt, 
whose  habit  it  was  to  accept  any  sum,  from  a  crown 
upwards,  willingly  undertook  this  strange  business. 
She  went  upon  her  errand  immediately,  and  then  re- 
paired to  Madame  de  Mailly,  who  without  property, 
and  burdened  with  a  troop  of  children — sons  and 
daughters, — was  in  no  way  averse  to  the  marriage. 

The  King,  upon  getting  up,  was  duly  made  ac- 
quainted with  La  Vrilliere's  proposal,  and  at  once 
agreed  to  it.  There  was  only  one  person  opposed  to 
the  marriage,  and  that  was  Mademoiselle  de  Mailly. 
She  was  not  quite  twelve  years  of  age.  She  burst  out 
a-crying,  and  declared  she  was  very  unhappy,  that  she 
would  not  mind  marrying  a  poor  man,  if  necessary, 
provided  he  was  a  gentleman,  but  that  to  marry  a 
paltry  bourgeois,  in  order  to  make  his  fortune,  was 
odious  to  her.     She  was  furious  against  her  mother 

222 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  223 

and  against  Madame  de  Maintenon.  She  could  not 
be  kept  quiet  or  appeased,  or  hindered  from  making 
grimaces  at  La  Vrilliere  and  all  his  family,  who  came 
to  see  her  and  her  mother.  They  felt  it;  but  the  bar- 
gain was  made,  and  was  too  good  to  be  broken.  They 
thought  Mademoiselle  de  Mailly's  annoyance  would 
pass  with  her  youth — but  they  were  mistaken.  Made- 
moiselle de  Mailly  always  was  sore  at  having  been 
made  Madame  de  la  Vrilliere,  and  people  often  ob- 
served it. 

At  the  marriage  of  Monseigneur  the  Due  de  Bour- 
gogne,  the  King  had  offered  to  augment  considerably 
his  monthly  income.  The  young  Prince,  who  found 
it  sufficient,  replied  with  thanks,  and  said  that  if  money 
failed  him  at  any  time  he  would  take  the  liberty  of 
asking  the  King  for  more.  Finding  himself  short  just 
now,  he  was  as  good  as  his  word.  The  King  praised 
him  highly,  and  told  him  to  ask  whenever  he  wanted 
money,  not  through  a  third  person,  but  direct,  as  he 
had  done  in  this  instance.  The  King,  moreover,  told 
the  Due  de  Bourgogne  to  play  without  fear,  for  it  was 
of  no  consequence  how  much  such  persons  as  he  might 
lose.  The  King  was  pleased  with  confidence,  but  liked 
not  less  to  see  himself  feared;  and  when  timid  people 
who  spoke  to  him  discovered  themselves,  and  grew  em- 
barrassed in  their  discourse,  nothing  better  made  their 
court,  or  advanced  their  interests. 

The  Archbishop  of  Rheims  presided  this  year  over 
the  assembly  of  the  clergy,  which  was  held  every  five 
years.  It  took  place  on  this  occasion  at  Saint  Ger- 
mains,  although  the  King  of  England  occupied  the 
chateau.  M.  de  Rheims  kept  open  table  there,  and 
had  some  champagne  that  was  much  vaunted.  The 
King  of  England,  who  drank  scarcely  any  other  wine, 
heard  of  this  and  asked  for  some.  The  Archbishop 
sent  him  six  bottles.     Some  time  after,  the  King  of 


224  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

England,  who  had  much  relished  the  wine,  sent  and 
asked  for  more.  The  Archbishop,  more  sparing  of 
his  wine  than  of  his  money,  bluntly  sent  word  that 
his  wine  was  not  mad,  and  did  not  run  through  the 
streets;  and  sent  none.  However  accustomed  people 
might  be  to  the  rudeness  of  the  Archbishop,  this  ap- 
peared so  strange  that  it  was  much  spoken  of :  but 
that  was  all. 

M.  de  Vendome  took  another  public  leave  of  the 
King,  the  Princes,  and  the  Princesses,  in  order  to  place 
himself  again  under  the  doctor's  hands.  He  perceived 
at  last  that  he  was  not  cured,  and  that  it  would  be  long 
before  he  was;  so  went  to  Anet  to  try  and  recover  his 
health,  but  without  success  better  than  before.  He 
brought  back  a  face  upon  which  his  state  was  still 
more  plainly  printed  than  at  first.  Madame  d'Uzes, 
only  daughter  of  the  Prince  de  Monaco,  died  of  this 
disease.  She  was  a  woman  of  merit — very  virtuous 
and  unhappy — who  merited  a  better  fate.  M.  d'Uzes 
was  an  obscure  man,  who  frequented  the  lowest  so- 
ciety, and  suffered  less  from  its  effects  than  his  wife, 
who  was  much  pitied  and  regretted.  Her  children  per- 
ished of  the  same  disease,  and  she  left  none  behind  her. 

Soon  after  this  the  King  ordered  the  Comtes  d'Uzes 
and  d' Albert  to  go  to  the  Conciergerie  for  having 
fought  a  duel  against  the  Comtes  de  Rontzau,  a  Dane, 
and  Schwartzenberg,  an  Austrian.  Uzes  gave  himself 
up,  but  the  Comte  d' Albert  did  not  do  so  for  a  long 
time,  and  was  broken  for  his  disobedience.  He  had 
been  on  more  than  good  terms  with  Madame  de  Lux- 
embourg— the  Comte  de  Rontzau  also :  hence  the  quar- 
rel; the  cause  of  which  was  known  by  everybody,  and 
made  a  great  stir.  Everybody  knew  it,  at  least,  except 
M.  de  Luxembourg,  and  said  nothing,  but  was  glad 
of  it;  and  yet  in  every  direction  he  asked  the  reason; 
but,  as  may  be  imagined,  could  find  nobody  to  tell  him; 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  225 

so  that  he  went  over  and  over  again  to  M.  le  Prince  de 
Conti,  his  most  intimate  friend,  praying  him  for  infor- 
mation upon  the  subject.  M.  de  Conti  related  to  me 
that  on  one  occasion,  coming  from  Meudon,  he  was  so 
solicited  by  M.  de  Luxembourg  on  this  account,  that 
he  was  completely  embarrassed,  and  never  suffered  to 
such  an  extent  in  all  his  life.  He  contrived  to  put  off 
M.  de  Luxembourg,  and  said  nothing,  but  was  glad 
indeed  to  get  away  from  him  at  the  end  of  the  journey. 

Le  Notre  died  about  this  time,  after  having  been 
eighty-eight  years  in  perfect  health,  and  with  all  his 
faculties  and  good  taste  to  the  very  last.  He  was  illus- 
trious, as  having  been  the  first  designer  of  those  beau- 
tiful gardens  which  adorn  France,  and  which,  indeed, 
have  so  surpassed  the  gardens  of  Italy,  that  the  most 
famous  masters  of  that  country  come  here  to  admire 
and  learn.  Le  Notre  had  a  probity,  an  exactitude,  and 
an  uprightness  which  made  him  esteemed  and  loved 
by  everybody.  He  never  forgot  his  position,  and  was 
always  perfectly  disinterested.  He  worked  for  private 
people  as  for  the  King,  and  with  the  same  applica- 
tion— seeking  only  to  aid  nature,  and  to  attain  the 
beautiful  by  the  shortest  road.  He  was  of  a  charm- 
ing simplicity  and  truthfulness.  The  Pope,  upon  one 
occasion,  begged  the  King  to  lend  him  Le  Notre  for 
some  months.  On  entering  the  Pope's  chamber,  in- 
stead of  going  down  upon  his  knees,  Le  Notre  ran 
to  the  Holy  Father,  clasped  him  round  the  neck,  kissed 
him  on  the  two  cheeks,  and  said — "  Good  morning, 
Reverend  Father;  how  well  you  look,  and  how  glad  I 
am  to  see  you  in  such  good  health." 

The  Pope,  who  was  Clement  X.,  Altieri,  burst  out 
laughing  with  all  his  might.  He  was  delighted  with 
this  odd  salutation,  and  showed  his  friendship  towards 
the  gardener  in  a  thousand  ways.  Upon  Le  Notre's 
return,  the  King  led  him  into  the  gardens  of  Ver- 


226  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

sailles,  and  showed  him  what  had  been  done  in  his 
absence.  About  the  Colonnade  he  said  nothing.  The 
King  pressed  him  to  give  his  opinion  thereupon. 

'  Why,  sire,"  said  Le  Notre,  "  what  can  I  say?  Of 
a  mason  you  have  made  a  gardener,  and  he  has  given 
you  a  sample  of  his  trade." 

The  King  kept  silence  and  everybody  laughed;  and 
it  was  true  that  this  morsel  of  architecture,  which  was 
anything  but  a  fountain,  and  yet  which  was  intended 
to  be  one,  was  much  out  of  place  in  a  garden.  A 
month  before  Le  Notre's  death,  the  King,  who  liked 
to  see  him  and  to  make  him  talk,  led  him  into  the 
gardens,  and  on  account  of  his  great  age,  placed  him  in 
a  wheeled  chair,  by  the  side  of  his  own.  Upon  this 
Le  Notre  said,  "  Ah,  my  poor  father,  if  you  were  liv- 
ing and  could  see  a  simple  gardener  like  me,  your  son, 
wheeled  along  in  a  chair  by  the  side  of  the  greatest 
King  in  the  world,  nothing  would  be  wanting  to  my 
joy!" 

Le  Notre  was  Overseer  of  the  Public  Buildings,  and 
lodged  at  the  Tuileries,  the  garden  of  which  (his  de- 
sign), together  with  the  Palace,  being  under  his 
charge.  All  that  he  did  is  still  much  superior  to  every- 
thing that  has  been  done  since,  whatever  care  may 
have  been  taken  to  imitate  and  follow  him  as  closely 
as  possible.  He  used  to  say  of  flower-beds  that  they 
were  only  good  for  nurses,  who,  not  being  able  to  quit 
the  children,  walked  on  them  with  their  eyes,  and  ad- 
mired them  from  the  second  floor.  He  excelled,  nev- 
ertheless, in  flower-beds,  as  in  everything  concerning 
gardens;  but  he  made  little  account  of  them,  and  he 
was  right,  for  they  are  the  spots  upon  which  people 
never  walk. 

The  King  of  England  (William  III.)  lost  the  Duke 
of  Gloucester,  heir-presumptive  to  the  crown.  He  was 
eleven  years  of  age,  and  was  the  only  son  of  the  Prin- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  227 

cess  of  Denmark,  sister  of  the  defunct  Queen  Mary, 
wife  of  William.  His  preceptor  was  Doctor  Burnet, 
Bishop  of  Salisbury,  who  was  in  the  secret  of  the  in- 
vasion, and  who  passed  into  England  with  the  Prince 
of  Orange  at  the  Revolution,  of  which  Revolution  he 
has  left  a  very  fraudulent  history,  and  many  other 
works  of  as  little  truth  and  good  faith.  The  under- 
preceptor  was  the  famous  Vassor,  author  of  the  "  His- 
tory of  Louis  XIII.,"  which  would  be  read  with  more 
pleasure  if  there  were  less  spite  against  the  Catholic 
religion,  and  less  passion  against  the  King.  With 
those  exceptions  it  is  excellent  and  true.  Vassor  must 
have  been  singularly  well  informed  of  the  anecdotes 
that  he  relates,  and  which  escape  almost  all  historians. 
I  have  found  there,  for  instance,  the  Day  of  the  Dupes 
related  precisely  as  my  father  has  related  it  to  me, 
and  several  other  curious  things  not  less  exact.  This 
author  has  made  such  a  stir  that  it  is  worth  while  to 
say  something  about  him.  He  was  a  priest  of  the  Ora- 
tory, and  in  much  estimation  as  a  man  whose  man- 
ners were  without  reproach.  After  a  time,  however, 
he  was  found  to  have  disclosed  a  secret  that  had  been 
entrusted  to  him,  and  to  have  acted  the  spy  on  behalf 
of  the  Jesuits.  The  proofs  of  his  treason  were  found 
upon  his  table,  and  were  so  conclusive  that  there  was 
nothing  for  him  but  to  leave  the  Oratory.  He  did  so, 
and  being  deserted  by  his  Jesuit  employers,  threw  him- 
self into  La  Trappe.  But  he  did  not  enter  the  place  in 
a  proper  spirit,  and  in  a  few  days  withdrew.  After 
this  he  went  to  the  Abbey  of  Perseigne,  hired  a  lodg- 
ing there,  and  remained  several  months.  But  he  was 
continually  at  loggerheads  with  the  monks.  Their 
garden  was  separate  from  his  only  by  a  thick  hedge; 
their  fowls  could  jump  over  it.  He  laid  the  blame 
upon  the  monks,  and  one  day  caught  as  many  of  their 
fowls  as  he  could;  cut  off  their  beaks  and  their  spurs 

Vol.  11  Memoirs — H 


528  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

with  a  cleaver,  and  threw  them  back  again  over  the 
hedge.  This  was  cruelty  so  marked  that  I  could  not 
refrain  from  relating  it. 

Vassor  did  not  long  remain  in  this  retreat,  but  re- 
turned to  Paris,  and  still  being  unable  to  gain  a  liv- 
ing, passed  into  Holland,  from  rage  and  hunger  be- 
came a  Protestant,  and  set  himself  to  work  to  live  by 
his  pen.  His  knowledge,  talent,  and  intelligence  pro- 
cured him  many  friends,  and  his  reputation  reached 
England,  into  which  country  he  passed,  hoping  to  gain 
there  more  fortune  than  in  Holland.  Burnet  received 
him  with  open  arms,  and  obtained  for  him  the  post 
of  under-preceptor  to  the  Duke  of  Gloucester.  It 
would  have  been  difficult  to  have  found  two  instructors 
so  opposed  to  the  Catholics  and  to  France,  or  so  well 
suited  to  the  King  as  teachers  of  his  successor. 

Among  so  many  things  which  paved  the  way  for  the 
greatest  events,  a  very  strange  one  happened,  which 
from  its  singularity  merits  a  short  recital.  For  many 
years  the  Comtesse  de  Verrue  lived  at  Turin,  mistress, 
publicly,  of  M.  de  Savoie.  The  Comtesse  de  Verrue 
was  daughter  of  the  Due  de  Luynes,  and  had  been 
married  in  Piedmont,  when  she  was  only  fourteen 
years  of  age,  to  the  Comte  de  Verrue,  young,  hand- 
some, rich,  and  honest;  whose  mother  was  lady  of 
honour  to  Madame  de  Savoie. 

M.  de  Savoie  often  met  the  Comtesse  de  Verrue,  and 
soon  found  her  much  to  his  taste.  She  saw  this,  and 
said  so  to  her  husband  and  her  mother-in-law.  They 
praised  her,  but  took  no  further  notice  of  the  matter. 
M.  de  Savoie  redoubled  his  attentions,  and,  contrary 
to  his  usual  custom,  gave  fetes,  which  the  Comtesse  de 
Verrue  felt  were  for  her.  She  did  all  she  could  not  to 
attend  them,  but  her  mother-in-law  quarrelled  with 
her,  said  she  wished  to  play  the  important,  and  that 
it  was  her  vanity  which  gave  her  these  ideas.     Her 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  229 

husband,  more  gentle,  desired  her  to  attend  these  fetes, 
saying  that  even  if  M.  de  Savoie  were  really  in  love 
with  her,  it  would  not  do  to  fail  in  anything  towards 
him.  Soon  after  M.  de  Savoie  spoke  to  the  Comtesse 
de  Verrue.  She  told  her  husband  and  her  mother-in- 
law,  and  used  every  entreaty  in  order  to  prevail  upon 
them  to  let  her  go  and  pass  some  time  in  the  country. 
They  would  not  listen  to  her,  and  seeing  no  other 
course  open,  she  feigned  to  be  ill,  and  had  herself  sent 
to  the  waters  of  Bourbon.  She  wrote  to  her  father, 
the  Due  de  Luynes,  to  meet  her  there,  and  set  out 
under  the  charge  of  the  Abbe  de  Verrue,  uncle  of  her 
husband.  As  soon  as  the  Due  de  Luynes  arrived  at 
Bourbon,  and  became  acquainted  with  the  danger 
which  threatened  his  daughter,  he  conferred  with  the 
Abbe  as  to  the  best  course  to  adopt,  and  agreed  with 
him  that  the  Countess  should  remain  away  from  Turin 
some  time,  in  order  that  M.  de  Savoie  might  get  cured 
of  his  passion.  M.  de  Luynes  little  thought  that  he 
had  conferred  with  a  wolf  who  wished  to  carry  off 
his  lamb.  The  Abbe  de  Verrue,  it  seems,  was  himself 
violently  in  love  with  the  Countess,  and  directly  her 
father  had  gone  declared  the  state  of  his  heart.  Find- 
ing himself  only  repulsed,  the  miserable  old  man  turned 
his  love  into  hate,  ill-treated  the  Countess,  and  upon 
her  return  to  Turin,  lost  no  opportunity  of  injuring 
her  in  the  eyes  of  her  husband  and  her  mother-in- 
law. 

The  Comtesse  de  Verrue  suffered  this  for  some 
time,  but  at  last  her  virtue  yielded  to  the  bad  treat- 
ment she  received.  She  listened  to  M.  de  Savoie,  and 
delivered  herself  up  to  him  in  order  to  free  herself 
from  persecution.  Is  not  this  a  real  romance?  But 
it  happened  in  our  own  time,  under  the  eyes  and  to 
the  knowledge  of  everybody. 

When  the  truth  became  known,  the  Vermes  were  in 


230  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

despair,  although  they  had  only  themselves  to  blame 
for  what  had  happened.  Soon  the  new  mistress  ruled 
all  the  Court  of  Savoy,  whose  sovereign  was  at  her 
feet  as  before  a  goddess.  She  disposed  of  the  favours 
of  her  lover,  and  was  feared  and  courted  by  the  min- 
istry. Her  haughtiness  made  her  hated ;  she  was  poi- 
soned; M.  de  Savoie  gave  her  a  subtle  antidote,  which 
fortunately  cured  her,  and  without  injury  to  her 
beauty.  Her  reign  still  lasted.  After  a  while  she  had 
the  small-pox.  M.  de  Savoie  tended  her  during  this 
illness,  as  though  he  had  been  a  nurse;  and  although 
her  face  suffered  a  little  by  it,  he  loved  her  not  the 
less.  But  he  loved  her  after  his  own  fashion.  He 
kept  her  shut  up  from  view,  and  at  last  she  grew  so 
tired  of  her  restraint  that  she  determined  to  fly.  She 
conferred  with  her  brother,  the  Chevalier  de  Luynes, 
who  served  with  much  distinction  in  the  navy,  and 
together  they  arranged  the  matter. 

They  seized  an  opportunity  when  M.  de  Savoie  had 
gone  on  a  tour  to  Chambery,  and  departed  furtively. 
Crossing  our  frontier,  they  arrived  in  Paris,  where 
the  Comtesse  de  Verrue,  who  had  grown  very  rich, 
took  a  house,  and  by  degrees  succeeded  in  getting  peo- 
ple to  come  and  see  her,  though,  at  first,  owing  to  the 
scandal  of  her  life,  this  was  difficult.  In  the  end,  her 
opulence  gained  her  a  large  number  of  friends,  and 
she  availed  herself  so  well  of  her  opportunities,  that 
she  became  of  much  importance,  and  influenced 
strongly  the  government.  But  that  time  goes  beyond 
my  memoirs.  She  left  in  Turin  a  son  and  a  daughter, 
both  recognised  by  M.  de  Savoie,  after  the  manner  of 
our  King.  He  loved  passionately  these  illegitimate 
children,  and  married  the  daughter  to  the  Prince  de 
Carignan. 

Mademoiselle  de  Conde  died  at  Pans  on  October 
24th,  after  a  long  illness,  from  a  disease  in  the  chest, 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  231 

which  consumed  her  less  than  the  torments  she  ex- 
perienced without  end  from  M.  le  Prince,  her  father, 
whose  continual  caprices  were  the  plague  of  all  those 
over  whom  he  could  exercise  them.  Almost  all  the 
children  of  M.  le  Prince  were  little  bigger  than  dwarfs, 
which  caused  M.  le  Prince,  who  was  tall,  to  say  in 
pleasantry,  that  if  his  race  went  on  always  thus  dimin- 
ishing it  would  come  to  nothing.  People  attributed  the 
cause  to  a  dwarf  that  Madame  la  Princesse  had  had 
for  a  long  time  near  her. 

At  the  funeral  of  Mademoiselle  de  Conde,  a  very  in- 
decorous incident  happened.  My  mother,  who  was 
invited  to  take  part  in  the  ceremony,  went  to  the  Ho- 
tel de  Conde,  in  a  coach  and  six  horses,  to  join  Made- 
moiselle d'Enghien.  When  the  procession  was  about 
to  start  the  Duchesse  de  Chatillon  tried  to  take  prece- 
dence of  my  mother.  But  my  mother  called  upon 
Mademoiselle  d'Enghien  to  prevent  this,  or  else  to 
allow  her  to  return.  Madame  de  Chatillon  persisted 
in  her  attempt,  saying  that  relationship  decided  the 
question  of  precedence  on  these  occasions,  and  that 
she  was  a  nearer  relative  to  the  deceased  than  my 
mother.  My  mother,  in  a  cold  but  haughty  tone,  re- 
plied that  she  could  pardon  this  mistake  on  account 
of  the  youth  and  ignorance  of  Madame  de  Chatillon; 
but  that  in  all  such  cases  it  was  rank  and  not  rela- 
tionship which  decided  the  point.  The  dispute  was  at 
last  put  to  an  end  by  Madame  de  Chatillon  giving  way. 
But  when  the  procession  started  an  attempt  was  made 
by  her  coachman  to  drive  before  the  coach  of  my 
mother,  and  one  of  the  company  had  to  descend  and 
decide  the  dispute.  On  the  morrow  M.  le  Prince  sent 
to  apologise  to  my  mother  for  the  occurrence  that  had 
taken  place,  and  came  himself  shortly  afterwards  full 
of  compliments  and  excuses.  I  never  could  under- 
stand what  induced  Madame  de  Chatillon  to  take  this 


212  DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON 

fancy  into  her  head;  but  she  was  much  ashamed  of  it 
afterwards,  and  made  many  excuses  to  my  mother. 

I  experienced,  shortly  after  this,  at  Fontainebleau, 
one  of  the  greatest  afflictions  I  had  ever  endured.  I 
mean  the  loss  of  M.  de  La  Trappe.  These  Memoirs 
are  too  profane  to  treat  slightly  of  a  life  so  sublimely 
holy,  and  of  a  death  so  glorious  and  precious  before 
God.  I  will  content  myself  with  saying  here  that 
praises  of  M.  de  La  Trappe  were  so  much  the  more 
great  and  prolonged  because  the  King  eulogised  him  in 
public;  that  he  wished  to  see  narrations  of  his  death; 
and  that  he  spoke  more  than  once  of  it  to  his  grand- 
sons by  way  of  instruction.  In  every  part  of  Europe 
this  great  loss  was  severely  felt.  The  Church  wept  for 
him,  and  the  world  even  rendered  him  justice.  His 
death,  so  happy  for  him  and  so  sad  for  his  friends, 
happened  on  the  26th  of  October,  towards  half -past 
twelve,  in  the  arms  of  his  bishop,  and  in  presence  of 
his  community,  at  the  age  of  nearly  seventy-seven 
years,  and  after  nearly  forty  years  of  the  most  pro- 
digious penance.  I  cannot  omit,  however,  the  most 
touching  and  the  most  honourable  mark  of  his  friend- 
ship. Lying  upon  the  ground,  on  straw  and  ashes, 
in  order  to  die  like  all  the  brethren  of  La  Trappe,  he 
deigned,  of  his  own  accord,  to  recollect  me,  and 
charged  the  Abbe  La  Trappe  to  send  word  to  me,  on 
his  part,  that  as  he  was  quite  sure  of  my  affection  for 
him,  he  reckoned  that  I  should  not  doubt  of  his  ten- 
derness for  me.  I  check  myself  at  this  point;  every- 
thing I  could  add  would  be  too  much  out  of  place 
here. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

FOR  the  last  two  or  three  years  the  King  of  Spain 
had  been  in  very  weak  health,  and  in  danger  of 
his  life  several  times.  He  had  no  children,  and 
no  hope  of  having  any.  The  question,  therefore,  of 
the  succession  to  his  vast  empire  began  now  to  agitate 
every  European  Court.  The  King  of  England  (Will- 
iam III.),  who  since  his  usurpation  had  much  aug- 
mented his  credit  by  the  grand  alliance  he  had  formed 
against  France,  and  of  which  he  had  been  the  soul  and 
the  chief  up  to  the  Peace  of  Ryswick,  undertook  to 
arrange  this  question  in  a  manner  that  should  prevent 
war  when  the  King  of  Spain  died.  His  plan  was  to 
give  Spain,  the  Indies,  the  Low  Countries,  and  the 
title  of  King  of  Spain  to  the  Archduke,  second  son  of 
the  Emperor;  Guipuscoa,  Naples,  Sicily,  and  Lor- 
raine to  France;  and  the  Milanese  to  M.  de  Lorraine, 
as  compensation  for  taking  away  from  him  his 
territory. 

The  King  of  England  made  this  proposition  first  of 
all  to  our  King;  who,  tired  of  war,  and  anxious  for 
repose,  as  was  natural  at  his  age,  made  few  difficul- 
ties, and  soon  accepted.  M.  de  Lorraine  was  not  in  a 
position  to  refuse  his  consent  to  a  change  recom- 
mended by  England,  France,  and  Holland.  Thus 
much  being  settled,  the  Emperor  was  next  applied  to. 
But  he  was  not  so  easy  to  persuade :  he  wished  to  in- 
herit the  entire  succession,  and  would  not  brook  the 
idea  of  seeing  the  House  of  Austria  driven  from  Italy, 
as  it  would  have  been  if  the  King  of  England's  pro- 
posal had  been  carried  out.     He  therefore  declared  it 

233 


234  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

was  altogether  unheard  of  and  unnatural  to  divide  a 
succession  under  such  circumstances,  and  that  he  would 
hear  nothing  upon  the  subject  until  after  the  death 
of  the  King  of  Spain.  The  resistance  he  made  caused 
the  whole  scheme  to  come  to  the  ears  of  the  King 
of  Spain,  instead  of  remaining  a  secret,  as  was 
intended. 

The  King  of  Spain  made  a  great  stir  in  consequence 
of  what  had  taken  place,  as  though  the  project  had 
been  formed  to  strip  him,  during  his  lifetime,  of  his 
realm.  His  ambassador  in  England  spoke  so  inso- 
lently that  he  was  ordered  to  leave  the  country  by 
William,  and  retired  to  Flanders.  The  Emperor,  who 
did  not  wish  to  quarrel  with  England,  intervened  at 
this  point,  and  brought  about  a  reconciliation  between 
the  two  powers.  The  Spanish  ambassador  returned 
to  London. 

The  Emperor  next  endeavoured  to  strengthen  his 
party  in  Spain.  The  reigning  Queen  was  his  sister- 
in-law  and  was  all-powerful.  Such  of  the  nobility  and 
of  the  ministers  who  would  not  bend  before  her  she 
caused  to  be  dismissed;  and  none  were  favoured  by 
her  who  were  not  partisans  of  the  House  of  Austria. 
The  Emperor  had,  therefore,  a  powerful  ally  at  the 
Court  of  Madrid  to  aid  him  in  carrying  out  his  plans ; 
and  the  King  was  so  much  in  his  favour,  that  he  had 
made  a  will  bequeathing  his  succession  to  the  Arch- 
duke. Everything  therefore  seemed  to  promise  suc- 
cess to  the  Emperor. 

But  just  at  this  time,  a  small  party  arose  in  Spain, 
equally  opposed  to  the  Emperor,  and  to  the  proposi- 
tions of  the  King  of  England.  This  party  consisted 
at  first  of  only  five  persons:  namely,  Villafranca, 
Medina-Sidonia,  Villagarcias,  Villena,  and  San  Este- 
yan,  all  of  them  nobles,  and  well  instructed  in  the 
affairs  of  government.    Their  wish  was  to  prevent  the 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  235 

dismemberment  of  the  Spanish  kingdom  by  conferring 
the  whole  succession  upon  the  son  of  the  only  son  of 
the  Queen  of  France,  Maria  Theresa,  sister  of  the 
King  of  Spain.  There  were,  however,  two  great  ob- 
stacles in  their  path.  Maria  Theresa,  upon  her  mar- 
riage with  our  King,  had  solemnly  renounced  all  claim 
to  the  Spanish  throne,  and  these  renunciations  had 
been  repeated  at  the  Peace  of  the  Pyrenees.  The  other 
obstacle  was  the  affection  the  King  of  Spain  bore  to 
the  House  of  Austria, — an  affection  which  naturally 
would  render  him  opposed  to  any  project  by  which  a 
rival  house  would  be  aggrandised  at  its  expense. 

As  to  the  first  obstacle,  these  politicians  were  of 
opinion  that  the  renunciations  made  by  Maria  Theresa 
held  good  only  as  far  as  they  applied  to  the  object  for 
which  they  were  made.  That  object  was  to  prevent 
the  crowns  of  France  and  Spain  from  being  united 
upon  one  head,  as  might  have  happened  in  the  person 
of  the  Dauphin.  But  now  that  the  Dauphin  had  three 
sons,  the  second  of  whom  could  be  called  to  the  throne 
of  Spain,  the  renunciations  of  the  Queen  became  of  no 
import.  As  to  the  second  obstacle,  it  was  only  to  be 
removed  by  great  perseverance  and  exertions;  but  they 
determined  to  leave  no  stone  unturned  to  achieve  their 
ends. 

One  of  the  first  resolutions  of  this  little  party  was  to 
bind  one  another  to  secrecy.  Their  next  was  to  ad- 
mit into  their  confidence  Cardinal  Portocarrero,  a  de- 
termined enemy  to  the  Queen.  Then  they  commenced 
an  attack  upon  the  Queen  in  the  council;  and  being 
supported  by  the  popular  voice,  succeeded  in  driving 
out  of  the  country  Madame  Berlips,  a  German  favour- 
ite of  hers,  who  was  much  hated  on  account  of  the 
undue  influence  she  exerted,  and  the  rapacity  she  dis- 
played. The  next  measure  was  of  equal  importance. 
Madrid  and  its  environs  groaned  under  the  weight  of 


236  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

a  regiment  of  Germans  commanded  by  the  Prince  of 
Darmstadt.  The  council  decreed  that  this  regiment 
should  be  disbanded,  and  the  Prince  thanked  for  his 
assistance.  These  two  blows  following  upon  each 
other  so  closely,  frightened  the  Queen,  isolated  her, 
and  put  it  out  of  her  power  to  act  during  the  rest 
of  the  life  of  the  King. 

There  was  yet  one  of  the  preliminary  steps  to  take, 
without  which  it  was  thought  that  success  would  not 
be  certain.  This  was  to  dismiss  the  King's  Confessor, 
who  had  been  given  to  him  by  the  Queen,  and  who  was 
a  zealous  Austrian. 

Cardinal  Portocarrero  was  charged  with  this  duty, 
and  he  succeeded  so  well,  that  two  birds  were  killed 
with  one  stone.  The  Confessor  was  dismissed,  and 
another  was  put  in  his  place,  who  could  be  relied  upon 
to  do  and  say  exactly  as  he  was  requested.  Thus,  the 
King  of  Spain  was  influenced  in  his  conscience,  which 
had  over  him  so  much  the  more  power,  because  he  was 
beginning  to  look  upon  the  things  of  this  world  by  the 
glare  of  that  terrible  flambeau  that  is  lighted  for  the 
dying.  The  Confessor  and  the  Cardinal,  after  a  short 
time,  began  unceasingly  to  attack  the  King  upon  the 
subject  of  the  succession.  The  King,  enfeebled  by  ill- 
ness, and  by  a  lifetime  of  weak  health,  had  little  power 
of  resistance.  Pressed  by  the  many  temporal,  and 
affrighted  by  the  many  spiritual  reasons  which  were 
brought  forward  by  the  two  ecclesiastics,  with  no 
friend  near  whose  opinion  he  could  consult,  no  Aus- 
trian at  hand  to  confer  with,  and  no  Spaniard  who  was 
not  opposed  to  Austria; — the  King  fell  into  a  pro- 
found perplexity,  and  in  this  strait,  proposed  to  con- 
sult the  Pope,  as  an  authority  whose  decision  would 
be  infallible.  The  Cardinal,  who  felt  persuaded  that 
the  Pope  was  sufficiently  enlightened  and  sufficiently 
impartial  to  declare  in  favour  of  France,  assented  to 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  237 

this  step;  and  the  King  of  Spain  accordingly  wrote  a 
long  letter  to  Rome,  feeling  much  relieved  by  the 
course  he  had  adopted. 

The  Pope  replied  at  once  and  in  the  most  decided 
manner.  He  said  he  saw  clearly  that  the  children  of 
the  Dauphin  were  the  next  heirs  to  the  Spanish  throne, 
and  that  the  House  of  Austria  had  not  the  smallest 
right  to  it.  He  recommended  therefore  the  King  of 
Spain  to  render  justice  to  whom  justice  was  due,  and 
to  assign  the  succession  of  his  monarchy  to  a  son  of 
France.  This  reply,  and  the  letter  which  had  given 
rise  to  it,  were  kept  so  profoundly  secret  that  they 
were  not  known  in  Spain  until  after  the  King's  death. 

Directly  the  Pope's  answer  had  been  received  the 
King  was  pressed  to  make  a  fresh  will,  and  to  destroy 
that  which  he  had  previously  made  in  favour  of  the 
Archduke.  The  new  will  accordingly  was  at  once 
drawn  up  and  signed;  and  the  old  one  burned  in  the 
presence  of  several  witnesses. 

Matters  having  arrived  at  this  point,  it  was  thought 
opportune  to  admit  others  to  the  knowledge  of  what 
had  taken  place.  The  council  of  state,  consisting  of 
eight  members,  four  of  whom  were  already  in  the 
secret,  was  made  acquainted  with  the  movements  of 
the  new  party;  and,  after  a  little  hesitation,  were 
gained  over. 

The  King,  meantime,  was  drawing  near  to  his  end. 
A  few  days  after  he  had  signed  the  new  will  he  was  at 
the  last  extremity,  and  in  a  few  days  more  he  died.  In 
his  last  moments  the  Queen  had  been  kept  from  him 
as  much  as  possible,  and  was  unable  in  any  way  to 
interfere  with  the  plans  that  had  been  so  deeply  laid. 
As  soon  as  the  King  was  dead  the  first  thing  to  be 
done  was  to  open  his  will.  The  council  of  state  as- 
sembled for  that  purpose,  and  all  the  grandees  of  Spain 
who  were  in  the  capital  took  part  in  it.    The  singular- 


23S  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

ity  and  the  importance  of  such  an  event,  interesting 
many  millions  of  men,  drew  all  Madrid  to  the  palace, 
and  the  rooms  adjoining  that  in  which  the  council 
assembled  were  filled  to  suffocation.  All  the  foreign 
ministers  besieged  the  door.  Every  one  sought  to  be 
the  first  to  know  the  choice  of  the  King  who  had  just 
died,  in  order  to  be  the  first  to  inform  his  court.  Ble- 
court,  our  ambassador,  was  there  with  the  others,  with- 
out knowing  more  than  they;  and  Count  d'Harrach, 
ambassador  from  the  Emperor,  who  counted  upon  the 
will  in  favour  of  the  Archduke,  was  there  also,  with 
a  triumphant  look,  just  opposite  the  door,  and  close 
by  it. 

At  last  the  door  opened,  and  immediately  closed 
again.  The  Due  d'Abrantes,  a  man  of  much  wit  and 
humour,  but  not  to  be  trifled  with,  came  out.  He 
wished  to  have  the  pleasure  of  announcing  upon  whom 
the  successorship  had  fallen,  and  was  surrounded  as 
soon  as  he  appeared.  Keeping  silence,  and  turning 
his  eyes  on  all  sides,  he  fixed  them  for  a  moment  on 
Blecourt,  then  looked  in  another  direction,  as  if  seek- 
ing some  one  else.  Blecourt  interpreted  this  action  as 
a  bad  omen.  The  Due  d'Abrantes  feigning  at  last  to 
discover  the  Count  d'Harrach,  assumed  a  gratified 
look,  flew  to  him,  embraced  him,  and  said  aloud  in 
Spanish,  "  Sir,  it  is  with  much  pleasure;"  then  paus- 
ing, as  though  to  embrace  him  better,  he  added :  "  Yes, 
sir,  it  is  with  an  extreme  joy  that  for  all  my  life," — 
here  the  embraces  were  redoubled  as  an  excuse  for  a 
second  pause,  after  which  he  went  on — "  and  with  the 
greatest  contentment  that  I  part  from  you,  and  take 
leave  of  the  very  august  House  of  Austria."  So  say- 
ing he  clove  the  crowd,  and  every  one  ran  after  him 
to  know  the  name  of  the  real  heir. 

The  astonishment  and  indignation  of  Count  d'Har- 
rach disabled  him  from  speaking,  but  showed  them- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  239 

selves  upon  his  face  in  all  their  extent.  He  remained 
motionless  some  moments,  and  then  went  away  in  the 
greatest  confusion  at  the  manner  in  which  he  had  been 
duped. 

Blecourt,  on  the  other  hand,  ran  home  without  ask* 
ing  other  information,  and  at  once  despatched  to  the 
King  a  courier,  who  fell  ill  at  Bayonne,  and  was  re- 
placed by  one  named  by  Harcourt,  then  at  Bayonne 
getting  ready  for  the  occupation  of  Guipuscoa.  The 
news  arrived  at  Court  (Fontainebleau)  in  the  month 
of  November.  The  King  was  going  out  shooting 
that  day;  but,  upon  learning  what  had  taken  place,  at 
once  countermanded  the  sport,  announced  the  death 
of  the  King  of  Spain,  and  at  three  o'clock  held  a  coun- 
cil of  the  ministers  in  the  apartments  of  Madame  de 
Maintenon.  This  council  lasted  until  past  seven 
o'clock  in  the  evening.  Monseigneur,  who  had  been 
out  wolf-hunting,  returned  in  time  to  attend  it.  On 
the  next  morning,  Wednesday,  another  council  was 
held,  and  in  the  evening  a  third,  in  the  apartments  of 
Madame  de  Maintenon.  However  accustomed  per- 
sons were  at  the  Court  to  the  favour  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon enjoyed  there,  they  were  extremely  surprised  to 
see  two  councils  assembled  in  her  rooms  for  the  great- 
est and  most  important  deliberation  that  had  taken 
place  during  this  long  reign,  or  indeed  during  many 
others. 

The  King,  Monseigneur,  the  Chancellor,  the  Due 
de  Brinvilliers,  Torcy,  and  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
were  the  only  persons  who  deliberated  upon  this  af- 
fair. Madame  de  Maintenon  preserved  at  first  a  mod- 
est silence;  but  the  King  forced  her  to  give  her 
opinion  after  everybody  had  spoken  except  herself. 
The  council  was  divided.  Two  were  for  keeping  to 
the  treaty  that  had  been  signed  with  King  William,  two 
for  accepting  the  will. 


240  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

Monseigneur,  drowned  as  he  was  in  fat  and  sloth, 
appeared  in  quite  another  character  from  his  usual  one, 
at  these  councils.  To  the  great  surprise  of  the  King 
and  his  assistants.,  when  it  was  his  turn  to  speak  he 
expressed  himself  with  force  in  favour  of  accepting  the 
testament.  Then,  turning  towards  the  King  in  a  re- 
spectful but  firm  manner,  he  said  that  he  took  the 
liberty  of  asking  for  his  inheritance,  that  the  mon- 
archy of  Spain  belonged  to  the  Queen  his  mother,  and 
consequently  to  him;  that  he  surrendered  it  willingly 
to  his  second  son  for  the  tranquillity  of  Europe;  but 
that  to  none  other  would  he  yield  an  inch  of  ground. 
These  words,  spoken  with  an  inflamed  countenance, 
caused  excessive  surprise.  The  King  listened  very 
attentively,  and  then  said  to  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
"  And  you,  Madame,  what  do  you  think  upon  all 
this?  "  She  began  by  affecting  modesty;  but  pressed, 
and  even  commanded  to  speak,  she  expressed  herself 
with  becoming  confusion;  briefly  sang  the  praises  of 
Monseigneur,  whom  she  feared  and  liked  but  little — 
sentiments  perfectly  reciprocated — and  at  last  was  for 
accepting  the  will. 

The  King  did  not  yet  declare  himself.  He  said  that 
the  affair  might  well  be  allowed  to  sleep  for  four-and- 
twenty  hours,  in  order  that  they  might  ascertain  if  the 
Spaniards  approved  the  choice  of  their  King.  He  dis- 
missed the  council,  but  ordered  it  to  meet  again  the 
next  evening  at  the  same  hour  and  place.  Next  day, 
several  couriers  arrived  from  Spain,  and  the  news  they 
brought  left  no  doubt  upon  the  King's  mind  as  to  the 
wishes  of  the  Spanish  nobles  and  people  upon  the  sub- 
ject of  the  will.  When  therefore  the  council  reas- 
sembled in  the  apartments  of  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
the  King,  after  fully  discussing  the  matter,  resolved  to 
accept  the  will. 

At  the  first  receipt  of  the  news  the  King  and  his 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  241 

ministers  had  been  overwhelmed  with  a  surprise  that 
they  could  not  recover  from  for  several  days.  When 
the  news  was  spread  abroad,  the  Court  was  equally 
surprised.  The  foreign  ministers  passed  whole  nights 
deliberating  upon  the  course  the  King  would  adopt. 
Nothing  else  was  spoken  of  but  this  matter.  The 
King  one  evening,  to  divert  himself,  asked  the  prin- 
cesses their  opinion.  They  replied  that  he  should  send 
M.  le  Due  d'Anjou  (the  second  son  of  Monseigneur) 
into  Spain,  and  that  this  was  the  general  sentiment. 
'  I  am  sure,"  replied  the  King,  "  that  whatever  course 
I  adopt  many  people  will  condemn  me." 

At  last,  on  Tuesday,  the  16th  of  November,  the 
King  publicly  declared  himself.  The  Spanish  am- 
bassador had  received  intelligence  which  proved  the 
eagerness  of  Spain  to  welcome  the  Due  d'Anjou  as  its 
King.  There  seemed  to  be  no  doubt  of  the  matter. 
The  King,  immediately  after  getting  up,  called  the 
ambassador  into  his  cabinet,  where  M.  le  Due  d'Anjou 
had  already  arrived.  Then,  pointing  to  the  Duke,  he 
told  the  ambassador  he  might  salute  him  as  King  of 
Spain.  The  ambassador  threw  himself  upon  his  knees 
after  the  fashion  of  his  country,  and  addressed  to  the 
Duke  a  tolerably  long  compliment  in  the  Spanish  lan- 
guage. Immediately  afterwards,  the  King,  contrary 
to  all  custom,  opened  the  two  folding  doors  of  his  cabi- 
net, and  commanded  everybody  to  enter.  It  was  a 
very  full  Court  that  day.  The  King,  majestically  turn- 
ing his  eyes  towards  the  numerous  company,  and 
showing  them  M.  le  Due  d'Anjou  said — "  Gentlemen, 
behold  the  King  of  Spain.  His  birth  called  him  to 
that  crown :  the  late  King  also  has  called  him  to  it  by 
his  will;  the  whole  nation  wished  for  him,  and  has 
asked  me  for  him  eagerly;  it  is  the  will  of  heaven:  I 
have  obeyed  it  with  pleasure."  And  then,  turning 
towards  his  grandson,  he  said,  "  Be  a  good  Spaniard, 


242  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

that  is  your  first  duty;  but  remember  that  you  are  a 
Frenchman  born,  in  order  that  the  union  between  the 
two  nations  may  be  preserved;  it  will  be  the  means  of 
rendering  both  happy,  and  of  preserving  the  peace  of 
Europe."  Pointing  afterwards  with  his  finger  to  the 
Due  d'Anjou,  to  indicate  him  to  the  ambassador,  the 
King  added,  "  If  he  follows  my  counsels  you  will  be  a 
grandee,  and  soon;  he  cannot  do  better  than  follow 
your  advice." 

When  the  hubbub  of  the  courtiers  had  subsided,  the 
two  other  sons  of  France,  brothers  of  M.  d'Anjou,  ar- 
rived, and  all  three  embraced  one  another  tenderly  sev- 
eral times,  with  tears  in  their  eyes.  The  ambassador 
of  the  Emperor  immediately  entered,  little  suspecting 
what  had  taken  place,  and  was  confounded  when  he 
learned  the  news.  The  King  afterwards  went  to  mass, 
during  which  at  his  right  hand  was  the  new  King  of 
Spain,  who  during  the  rest  of  his  stay  in  France,  was 
publicly  treated  in  every  respect  as  a  sovereign,  by  the 
King  and  all  the  Court. 

The  joy  of  Monseigneur  at  all  this  was  very  great. 
He  seemed  beside  himself,  and  continually  repeated 
that  no  man  had  ever  found  himself  in  a  condition  to 
say  as  he  could,  "  The  King  my  father,  and  the  King 
my  son."  If  he  had  known  the  prophecy  which  from 
his  birth  had  been  said  of  him,  "  A  King's  son,  a 
King's  father,  and  never  a  King,"  which  everybody 
had  heard  repeated  a  thousand  times,  I  think  he  would 
not  have  so  much  rejoiced,  however  vain  may  be  such 
prophecies.  The  King  himself  was  so  overcome,  that 
at  supper  he  turned  to  the  Spanish  ambassador  and 
said  that  the  whole  affair  seemed  to  him  like  a  dream. 
In  public,  as  I  have  observed,  the  new  King  of  Spain 
was  treated  in  every  respect  as  a  sovereign,  but  in 
private  he  was  still  the  Due  d'Anjou.  He  passed  his 
evenings  in  the  apartments  of  Madame  de  Maintenon, 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  243 

where  he  played  at  all  sorts  of  children's  games,  scam- 
pering to  and  fro  with  Messeigneurs  his  brothers,  with 
Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  and  with  the  few 
ladies  to  whom  access  was  permitted. 

On  Friday,  the  19th  of  November,  the  new  King  of 
Spain  put  on  mourning.  Two  days  after,  the  King 
did  the  same.  On  Monday,  the  22nd,  letters  were  re- 
ceived from  the  Elector  of  Bavaria,  stating  that  che 
King  of  Spain  had  been  proclaimed  at  Brussels  with 
much  rejoicing  and  illuminations.  On  Sunday,  the 
28th,  M.  Vaudemont,  governor  of  the  Milanese,  sent 
word  that  he  had  been  proclaimed  in  that  territory, 
and  with  the  same  demonstrations  of  joy  as  at 
Brussels. 

On  Saturday,  the  4th  of  December,  the  King  of 
Spain  set  out  for  his  dominions.  The  King  rode  with 
him  in  his  coach  as  far  as  Sceaux,  surrounded  in  pomp 
by  many  more  guards  than  usual,  gendarmes  and  light 
horse,  all  the  road  covered  with  coaches  and  people; 
and  Sceaux,  where  they  arrived  a  little  after  midday, 
full  of  ladies  and  courtiers,  guarded  by  two  companies 
of  Musketeers.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  leave- 
taking,  and  all  the  family  was  collected  alone  in  the 
last  room  of  the  apartment;  but  as  the  doors  were 
left  open,  the  tears  they  shed  so  bitterly  could  be  seen. 
In  presenting  the  King  of  Spain  to  the  Princes  of  the 
blood,  the  King  said — "  Behold  the  Princes  of  my 
blood  and  of  yours;  the  two  nations  from  this  time 
ought  to  regard  themselves  as  one  nation;  they  ought 
to  have  the  same  interests;  therefore  I  wish  these 
Princes  to  be  attached  to  you  as  to  me;  you  cannot 
have  friends  more  faithful  or  more  certain."  All  this 
lasted  a  good  hour  and  a  half.  But  the  time  of  sepa- 
ration at  last  came.  The  King  conducted  the  King 
of  Spain  to  the  end  of  the  apartment,  and  embraced 
him  several  times,  holding  him  a  long  while  in  his 


244  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

arms.    Monseigneur  did  the  same.    The  spectacle  was 
extremely  touching. 

The  King  returned  into  the  palace  for  some  time,  in 
order  to  recover  himself.  Monseigneur  got  into  a 
caleche  alone,  and  went  to  Meudon;  and  the  King  of 
Spain,  with  his  brother,  M.  de  Noailles,  and  a  large 
number  of  courtiers,  set  out  on  his  journey.  The  King 
gave  to  his  grandson  twenty-one  purses  of  a  thousand 
louis  each,  for  pocket-money,  and  much  money  besides 
for  presents.  Let  us  leave  them  on  their  journey,  and 
admire  the  Providence  which  sports  with  the  thoughts 
of  men  and  disposes  of  states.  What  would  have  said 
Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  Charles  V.  and  Philip  II.,  who 
so  many  times  attempted  to  conquer  France,  and  who 
have  been  so  frequently  accused  of  aspiring  to  uni- 
versal monarchy,  and  Philip  IV.,  even,  with  all  his  pre- 
cautions at  the  marriage  of  the  King  and  at  the  Peace 
of  the  Pyrenees, — what  would  they  have  said,  to  see 
a  son  of  France  become  King  of  Spain,  by  the  will 
and  testament  of  the  last  of  their  blood  in  Spain,  and 
by  the  universal  wish  of  all  the  Spaniards — without 
plot,  without  intrigue,  without  a  shot  being  fired  on 
our  part,  and  without  the  sanction  of  our  King,  nay 
even  to  his  extreme  surprise  and  that  of  all  his  min- 
isters, who  had  only  the  trouble  of  making  up  their 
minds  and  of  accepting?  What  great  and  wise  re- 
flections might  be  made  thereon !  But  they  would  be 
out  of  place  in  these  Memoirs. 

The  King  of  Spain  arrived  in  Madrid  on  the  19th 
February.  From  his  first  entrance  into  the  country 
he  had  everywhere  been  most  warmly  welcomed. 
Acclamations  were  uttered  when  he  appeared;  fetes 
and  bull-fights  were  given  in  his  honour;  the  nobles 
and  ladies  pressed  around  him.  He  had  been  pro- 
claimed in  Madrid  some  time  before,  in  the  midst  of 
demonstrations   of   joy.     Now   that   he   had   arrived 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  245 

among  his  subjects  there,  that  joy  burst  out  anew. 
There  was  such  a  crowd  in  the  streets  that  sixty  people 
were  stifled!  All  along  the  line  of  route  were  an 
infinity  of  coaches  filled  with  ladies  richly  decked.  The 
streets  through  which  he  passed  were  hung  in  the 
Spanish  fashion ;  stands  were  placed,  adorned  with  fine 
pictures  and  a  vast  number  of  silver  vessels;  triumphal 
arches  were  built  from  side  to  side.  It  is  impossible 
to  conceive  a  greater  or  more  general  demonstration 
of  joy.  The  Buen-Retiro,  where  the  new  King  took 
up  his  quarters,  was  filled  with  the  Court  and  the 
nobility.  The  Junta  and  a  number  of  great  men  re- 
ceived him  at  the  door,  and  the  Cardinal  Portocarrero, 
who  was  there,  threw  himself  on  his  knees,  and  wished 
to  kiss  the  King's  hand.  But  the  King  would  not  per- 
mit this;  raised  the  Cardinal,  embraced  him,  and 
treated  him  as  his  father.  The  Cardinal  wept  with 
joy,  and  could  not  take  his  eyes  off  the  King.  He  was 
just  then  in  the  flower  of  his  first  youth — fair  like  the 
late  King  Charles,  and  the  Queen  his  grandmother; 
grave,  silent,  measured,  self-contained,  formed  ex- 
actly to  live  among  Spaniards.  With  all  this,  very 
attentive  in  his  demeanour,  and  paying  everybody  the 
attention  due  to  him,  having  taken  lessons  from  d'Har- 
court  on  the  way.  Indeed  he  took  off  his  hat  or  raised 
it  to  nearly  everybody,  so  that  the  Spaniards  spoke  on 
the  subject  to  the  Due  d'Harcourt,  who  replied  to  them 
that  the  King  in  all  essential  things  would  conform 
himself  to  usage,  but  that  in  others  he  must  be  allowed 
to  act  according  to  French  politeness.  It  cannot  be 
imagined  how  much  these  trifling  external  attentions 
attached  all  hearts  to  this  Prince. 

He  was,  indeed,  completely  triumphant  in  Spain,  and 
the  Austrian  party  as  completely  routed.  The  Queen 
of  Spain  was  sent  away  from  Madrid,  and  banished  to 
Toledo,  where  she  remained  with  but  a  small  suite,  and 


246  DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON 

still  less  consideration.  Each  day  the  nobles,  the  citi- 
zens, and  the  people  had  given  fresh  proof  of  their 
hatred  against  the  Germans  and  against  the  Queen. 
She  had  been  almost  entirely  abandoned,  and  was  re- 
fused the  most  ordinary  necessaries  of  her  state. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

SHORTLY  after  his  arrival  in  Madrid,  the  new 
King  of  Spain  began  to  look  about  him  for  a 
wife,  and  his  marriage  with  the  second  daugh- 
ter of  M.  de  Savoie  (younger  sister  of  Madame  de 
Bourgogne)  was  decided  upon  as  an  alliance  of  much 
honour  and  importance  to  M.  de  Savoie,  and,  by  bind- 
ing him  to  her  interest,  of  much  utility  to  France.  An 
extraordinary  ambassador  (Homodei,  brother  of  the 
Cardinal  of  that  name)  was  sent  to  Turin  to  sign  the 
contract  of  marriage,  and  bring  back  the  new  Queen 
into  Spain.  He  was  also  appointed  her  Ecuyer;  and 
the  Princesse  des  Ursins  was  selected  as  her  Camarera 
Mayor,  a  very  important  office.  The  Princesse  des 
Ursins  seemed  just  adapted  for  it.  A  Spanish  lady 
could  not  have  been  relied  upon :  a  lady  of  our  court 
would  not  have  been  fit  for  the  post.  The  Princesse 
des  Ursins  was,  as  it  were,  both  French  and  Spanish — 
French  by  birth,  Spanish  by  marriage.  She  had  passed 
the  greater  part  of  her  life  in  Rome  and  Italy,  and  was 
a  widow  without  children.  I  shall  have  more  hereafter 
to  say  of  this  celebrated  woman,  who  so  long  and  so 
publicly  governed  the  Court  and  Crown  of  Spain,  and 
who  has  made  so  much  stir  in  the  world  by  her  reign 
and  by  her  fall;  at  present  let  me  finish  with  the  new 
Queen  of  Spain. 

She  was  married,  then,  at  Turin,  on  the  nth  of 
September,  with  but  little  display,  the  King  being  rep- 
resented by  procuration,  and  set  out  on  the  13th  for 
Nice,  where  she  was  to  embark  on  board  the  Spanish 
galleys   for   Barcelona.     The   King  of   Spain,   mean- 

247 


248  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

while,  after  hearing  news  that  he  had  been  proclaimed 
with  much  unanimity  and  rejoicing  in  Peru  and  Mex- 
ico, left  Madrid  on  the  5th  of  September,  to  journey- 
through  Aragon  and  Catalonia  to  Barcelona  to  meet 
his  wife.  He  was  much  welcomed  on  his  route,  above 
all  by  Saragossa,  which  received  him  magnificently. 

The  new  Queen  of  Spain,  brought  by  the  French 
galleys  to  Nice,  was  so  fatigued  with  the  sea  when  she 
arrived  there,  that  she  determined  to  finish  the  rest  of 
the  journey  by  land,  through  Provence  and  Languedoc. 
Her  graces,  her  presence  of  mind,  the  aptness  and  the 
politeness  of  her  short  replies,  and  her  judicious  curi- 
osity, remarkable  at  her  age,  surprised  everybody,  and 
gave  great  hopes  to  the  Princesse  des  Ursins. 

When  within  two  days'  journey  of  Barcelona,  the 
Queen  was  met  by  a  messenger,  bearing  presents  and 
compliments  from  the  King.  All  her  household  joined 
her  at  the  same  time,  being  sent  on  in  advance  for  that 
purpose,  and  her  Piedmontese  attendants  were  dis- 
missed. She  appeared  more  affected  by  this  separation 
than  Madame  de  Bourgogne  had  been  when  parting 
from  her  attendants.  She  wept  bitterly,  and  seemed 
quite  lost  in  the  midst  of  so  many  new  faces,  the  most 
familiar  of  which  (that  of  Madame  des  Ursins)  was 
quite  fresh  to  her.  Upon  arriving  at  Figueras,  the 
King,  impatient  to  see  her,  went  on  before  on  horse- 
back. In  this  first  embarrassment  Madame  des  Ursins, 
although  completely  unknown  to  the  King,  and  but 
little  known  to  the  Queen,  was  of  great  service  to 
both. 

Upon  arriving  at  Figueras,  the  bishop  diocesan  mar- 
ried them  anew,  with  little  ceremony,  and  soon  after 
they  sat  down  to  supper,  waited  upon  by  the  Princesse 
des  Ursins  and  the  ladies  of  the  palace,  half  the  dishes 
being  French,  half  Spanish.  This  mixture  displeased 
the  ladies  of  the  palace  and  several  of  the  Spanish 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  249 

grandees,  who  plotted  with  the  ladies  openly  to  mark 
their  displeasure;  and  they  did  so  in  a  scandalous  man- 
ner. Under  one  pretext  or  another — such  as  the 
weight  or  heat  of  the  dishes — not  one  of  the  French 
dishes  arrived  upon  the  table;  all  were  upset;  while 
the  Spanish  dishes,  on  the  contrary,  were  served  with- 
out any  accident.  The  affectation  and  air  of  chagrin, 
to  say  the  least  of  it,  of  the  ladies  of  the  palace,  were 
too  visible  not  to  be  perceived.  But  the  King  and 
Queen  were  wise  enough  to  appear  not  to  notice  this; 
and  Madame  des  Ursins,  much  astonished,  said  not 
a  word. 

After  a  long  and  disagreeable  supper,  the  King  and 
Queen  withdrew.  Then  feelings  which  had  been  kept 
in  during  supper  overflowed.  The  Queen  wept  for  her 
Piedmontese  women.  Like  a  child,  as  she  was,  she 
thought  herself  lost  in  the  hands  of  ladies  so  insolent; 
and  when  it  was  time  to  go  to  bed,  she  said  flatly 
that  she  would  not  go,  and  that  she  wished  to  return 
home.  Everything  was  done  to  console  her;  but  the 
astonishment  and  embarrassment  were  great  indeed 
when  it  was  found  that  all  was  of  no  avail.  The  King 
had  undressed,  and  was  awaiting  her.  Madame  des 
Ursins  was  at  length  obliged  to  go  and  tell  him  the 
resolution  the  Queen  had  taken.  He  was  piqued  and 
annoyed.  He  had  until  that  time  lived  with  the  com- 
pletest  regularity;  which  had  contributed  to  make  him 
find  the  Princess  more  to  his  taste  than  he  might  other- 
wise have  done.  He  was  therefore  affected  by  her  fan- 
taisie,  and  by  the  same  reason  easily  persuaded  that 
she  would  not  keep  to  it  beyond  the  first  night.  They 
did  not  see  each  other  therefore  until  the  morrow,  and 
after  they  were  dressed.  It  was  lucky  that  by  the 
Spanish  custom  no  one  was  permitted  to  be  present 
when  the  newly-married  pair  went  to  bed;  or  this  af- 
fair, which  went  no  further  than  the  young  couple, 


250  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

Madame  des  Ursins,  and  one  or  two  domestics,  might 
have  made  a  very  unpleasant  noise. 

Madame  des  Ursins  consulted  with  two  of  the  cour- 
tiers, as  to  the  best  measures  to  be  adopted  with  a 
child  who  showed  so  much  force  and  resolution.  The 
night  was  passed  in  exhortations  and  in  promises  upon 
what  had  occurred  at  the  supper;  and  the  Queen  con- 
sented at  last  to  remain  Queen.  The  Duke  of  Medina- 
Sidonia  and  Count  San  Estevan  were  consulted  on 
the  morrow.  They  were  of  opinion  that  in  his  turn 
the  King,  in  order  to  mortify  her  and  reduce  her  to 
terms,  should  not  visit  the  Queen  on  the  following 
night.  This  opinion  was  acted  upon.  The  King  and 
Queen  did  not  see  each  other  in  private  that  day.  In 
the  evening  the  Queen  was  very  sorry.  Her  pride  and 
her  little  vanity  were  wounded;  perhaps  also  she  had 
found  the  King  to  her  taste. 

The  ladies  and  the  grand  seigneurs  who  had  at- 
tended at  the  supper  were  lectured  for  what  had  oc- 
curred there.  Excuses,  promises,  demands  for  pardon, 
followed;  all  was  put  right;  the  third  day  was  tran- 
quil, and  the  third  night  still  more  agreeable  to  the 
young  people.  On  the  fourth  day  they  went  to  Bar- 
celona, where  only  fetes  and  pleasures  awaited  them. 
Soon  after  they  set  out  for  Madrid. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  following  year  ( 1702), 
it  was  resolved,  after  much  debate,  at  our  court,  that 
Philip  V.  should  make  a  journey  to  Italy,  and  on 
Easter-day  he  set  out.  He  went  to  Naples,  Leghorn, 
Milan,  and  Alessandria.  While  at  the  first-named 
place  a  conspiracy  which  had  been  hatching  against  his 
life  was  discovered,  and  put  down.  But  other  things 
which  previously  occurred  in  Italy  ought  to  have  been 
related  before.    I  must  therefore  return  to  them  now. 

From  the  moment  that  Philip  V.  ascended  the  Span- 
ish throne  it  was  seen  that  a  war  was  certain.     Eng- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  251 

land  maintained  for  some  time  an  obstinate  silence, 
refusing  to  acknowledge  the  new  King;  the  Dutch  se- 
cretly murmured  against  him,  and  the  Emperor  openly- 
prepared  for  battle.  Italy,  it  was  evident  at  once, 
would  be  the  spot  on  which  hostilities  would  com- 
mence, and  our  King  lost  no  time  in  taking  measures 
to  be  ready  for  events.  By  land  and  by  sea  every 
preparation  was  made  for  the  struggle  about  to  take 
place. 

After  some  time  the  war,  waited  for  and  expected 
by  all  Europe,  at  last  broke  out,  by  some  Imperialist 
troops  firing  upon  a  handful  of  men  near  Albaredo. 
One  Spaniard  was  killed,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  men 
were  taken  prisoners.  The  Imperialists  would  not 
give  them  up  until  a  cartel  was  arranged.  The  King, 
upon  hearing  this,  at  once  despatched  the  general  of- 
ficers to  Italy.  Our  troops  were  to  be  commanded  by 
Catinat,  under  M.  de  Savoie;  and  the  Spanish  troops 
by  Vaudemont,  who  was  Governor-General  of  the 
Milanese,  and  to  whom,  and  his  dislike  to  our  King, 
I  have  before  alluded. 

Vaudemont  at  once  began  to  plot  to  overthrow  Cati- 
nat, in  conjunction  with  Tesse,  who  had  expected  the 
command,  and  who  was  irritated  because  it  had  not 
been  given  to  him.  They  were  in  communication  with 
Chamillart,  Minister  of  War,  who  aided  them,  as  did 
other  friends  at  Court,  to  be  hereafter  named,  in  car- 
rying out  their  object.  It  was  all  the  more  easy  be- 
cause they  had  to  do  with  a  man  who  depended  for 
support  solely  upon  his  own  talent,  and  whose  virtue 
and  simplicity  raised  him  above  all  intrigue  and  schem- 
ing; and  who,  with  much  ability  and  intelligence,  was 
severe  in  command,  very  laconic,  disinterested,  and  of 
exceeding  pure  life. 

Prince  Eugene  commanded  the  army  of  the  Em- 
peror in  Italy.     The  first  two  generals  under  him,  in 


252  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

order  of  rank,  were  allied  with  Vaudemont :  one,  in 
fact,  was  his  only  son;  the  other  was  the  son  of  a 
friend  of  his.  The  least  reflection  ought  to  have 
opened  all  eyes  to  the  conduct  of  Vaudemont,  and  to 
have  discerned  it  to  be  more  than  suspicious.  Catinat 
soon  found  it  out.  He  could  plan  nothing  against 
the  enemy  that  they  did  not  learn  immediately;  and 
he  never  attempted  any  movement  without  finding  him- 
self opposed  by  a  force  more  than  double  his  own;  so 
gross  was  this  treachery. 

Catinat  often  complained  of  this:  he  sent  word  of  it 
to  the  Court,  but  without  daring  to  draw  any  conclu- 
sion from  what  happened.  Nobody  sustained  him  at 
Court,  for  Vaudemont  had  everybody  in  his  favour. 
He  captured  our  general  officers  by  his  politeness,  his 
magnificence,  and,  above  all,  by  presenting  them  with 
abundant  supplies.  All  the  useful,  and  the  agreeable, 
came  from  his  side;  all  the  dryness,  all  the  exacti- 
tude, came  from  Catinat.  It  need  not  be  asked  which 
of  the  two  had  all  hearts.  In  fine,  Tesse  and  Vaude- 
mont carried  out  their  schemes  so  well  that  Catinat 
could  do  nothing. 

While  these  schemes  were  going  on,  the  Imperialists 
were  enabled  to  gain  time,  to  strengthen  themselves, 
to  cross  the  rivers  without  obstacle,  to  approach  us; 
and,  acquainted  with  everything  as  they  were,  to  at- 
tack a  portion  of  our  army  on  the  9th  July,  at  Capri, 
with  five  regiments  of  cavalry  and  dragoons.  Prince 
Eugene  led  this  attack  without  his  coming  being  in 
the  least  degree  suspected,  and  fell  suddenly  upon  our 
troops.  Tesse,  who  was  in  the  immediate  neighbour- 
hood with  some  dragoons,  advanced  rapidly  upon  hear- 
ing this,  but  only  with  a  few  dragoons.  A  long  re- 
sistance was  made,  but  at  last  retreat  became  neces- 
sary. It  was  accomplished  in  excellent  order,  and 
without  disturbance  from  the  enemy;  but  our  loss  was 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  253 

very  great,  many  officers  of  rank  being  among  the 
dead. 

Such  was  our  first  exploit  in  Italy;  all  the  fault  of 
which  was  attributed  to  Catinat.  Tesse  and  Vaude- 
mont  did  everything  in  their  power  to  secure  his  dis- 
grace. The  King,  indeed,  thus  prejudiced  against 
Catinat,  determined  to  take  from  him  the  command, 
and  appointed  the  Marechal  de  Villeroy  as  his  suc- 
cessor. The  surprise  of  everybody  at  this  was  very 
great,  for  no  one  expected  that  the  Marechal  de  Ville- 
roy would  repair  the  fault  of  Catinat.  On  the  even- 
ing of  his  appointment,  this  general  was  exposed  in  a 
very  straightforward  and  public  manner  by  M.  de 
Duras.  He  did  not  like  the  Marechal  de  Villeroy;  and, 
while  everybody  else  was  applauding,  took  the  Mare- 
chal by  the  arm,  and  said,  "  Monsieur  le  Marechal, 
everybody  is  paying  you  compliments  upon  your  de- 
parture to  Italy,  I  keep  mine  until  you  return;"  and 
then,  bursting  out  laughing,  he  looked  round  upon 
the  company.  Villeroy  remained  confounded,  with- 
out offering  a  word.  Everybody  smiled  and  looked 
down.     The  King  took  no  notice. 

Catinat,  when  the  command  was  taken  out  of  his 
hands  by  the  Marechal  de  Villeroy,  made  himself  ad- 
mired on  every  side  by  the  moderation  and  tranquillity 
with  which  he  conducted  himself.  If  Vaudemont  was 
satisfied  with  the  success  of  his  schemes,  it  was  far 
otherwise  with  Tesse,  who  had  merely  intrigued 
against  Catinat  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  the  com- 
mand of  the  army.  He  did  all  in  his  power  to  ingra- 
tiate himself  into  the  favour  of  the  Marechal  de  Ville- 
roy; but  the  Marechal  received  these  advances  very 
coldly.  Tesse's  schemes  against  Catinat  were  begin- 
ning to  be  scented  out;  he  was  accused  of  having 
wished  the  Imperialists  to  succeed  at  Capri,  and  of 
indirectly  aiding  them  by  keeping  back  his  troops;  his 


254  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

tirades  against  Catinat,  too,  made  him  suspected.  The 
Marechal  de  Villeroy  would  have  nothing  to  do  with 
him.  His  conduct  was  contrasted  with  that  of  Catinat, 
who,  free  after  his  fall  to  retire  from  the  army,  con- 
tinued to  remain  there,  with  rare  modesty,  interfering 
in  nothing. 

The  first  campaign  passed  without  notable  incident, 
except  an  unsuccessful  attack  upon  Chiari,  by  our 
troops  on  the  ist  of  September.  M.  de  Savoie  led 
the  attack;  but  was  so  firmly  met  by  Prince  Eugene, 
who  was  in  an  excellent  position  for  defence,  that  he 
could  do  nothing,  and  in  the  end  was  compelled  to  re- 
tire disgracefully.  We  lost  five  or  six  colonels  and 
many  men,  and  had  a  large  number  wounded.  This 
action  much  astonished  our  army,  and  encouraged  that 
of  the  enemy,  who  did  almost  as  they  wished  during 
the  rest  of  the  campaign. 

Towards  the  end  of  this  campaign,  the  grand  airs 
of  familiarity  which  the  Marechal  de  Villeroy  gave 
himself  with  M.  de  Savoie  drew  upon  him  a  cruel  re- 
buke, not  to  say  an  affront.  M.  de  Savoie  being  in 
the  midst  of  all  the  generals  and  of  the  flower  of  the 
army,  opened,  while  talking,  his  snuff-box,  and  was 
about  to  take  a  pinch  of  snuff,  when  M.  de  Villeroy, 
who  was  standing  near,  stretched  out  his  hand  and  put 
it  into  the  box  without  saying  a  word.  M.  de  Savoie 
flushed  up,  and  instantly  threw  all  the  snuff  upon  the 
ground,  gave  the  box  to  one  of  his  attendants,  and 
told  him  to  fill  it  again.  The  Marechal,  not  knowing 
what  to  do  with  himself,  swallowed  his  shame  without 
daring  to  say  a  word,  M.  de  Savoie  continuing  the 
conversation  that  he  had  not  interrupted,  except  to 
ask  for  the  fresh  snuff. 

The  campaign  passed  away,  our  troops  always  re- 
treating, the  Imperialists  always  gaining  ground;  they 
continually    increasing    in    numbers;    we    diminishing 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  255 

little  by  little  every  day.  The  Marechal  de  Villeroy  and 
Prince  Eugene  each  took  up  his  winter  quarters  and 
crossed  the  frontier:  M.  de  Savoie  returned  to  Turin, 
and  Catinat  went  to  Paris.  The  King  received  him 
well,  but  spoke  of  nothing  but  unimportant  matters, 
and  gave  him  no  private  audience,  nor  did  he  ask 
for  one. 

Prince  Eugene,  who  was  more  knowing  than  the 
Marechal  de  Villeroy,  had  obliged  him  to  winter  in 
the  midst  of  the  Milanese,  and  kept  him  closely  pressed 
there,  while  his  own  troops  enjoyed  perfect  liberty,  by 
means  of  which  they  much  disturbed  ours.  In  this 
advantageous  situation,  Prince  Eugene  conceived  the 
design  of  surprising  the  centre  of  our  quarters,  and 
by  that  blow  to  make  himself  master  of  our  positions, 
and  afterwards  of  Milan,  and  other  places  of  the  coun- 
try, all  in  very  bad  order;  thus  finishing  effectively  and 
suddenly  his  conquest. 

Cremona  was  our  centre,  and  it  was  defended  by  a 
strong  garrison.  Prince  Eugene  ascertained  that  there 
was  at  Cremona  an  ancient  aqueduct  which  extended 
far  out  into  the  country,  and  which  started  from  the 
town  in  the  vault  of  a  house  occupied  by  a  priest.  He 
also  learnt  that  this  aqueduct  had  been  recently  cleaned, 
but  that  it  carried  very  little  water,  and  that  in  former 
times  the  town  had  been  surprised  by  means  of  it. 
He  caused  the  entrance  of  the  aqueduct,  in  the  country, 
to  be  reconnoitred,  he  gained  over  the  priest  in  whose 
vault  it  ended,  and  who  lived  close  to  one  of  the  gates 
of  the  city,  which  was  walled  up  and  but  little  guarded; 
he  sent  into  Cremona  as  many  chosen  soldiers  as  he 
could,  disguised  as  priests  or  peasants,  and  these  hid- 
ing themselves  in  the  house  of  the  friendly  priest,  ob- 
tained secretly  as  many  axes  as  they  could.  Then  the 
Prince  despatched  five  hundred  picked  men  and  of- 
ficers to  march  by  the  aqueduct  to  the  priest's  vault; 


256  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

he  put  Thomas  de  Vaudemont,  son  of  the  Governor- 
General  of  the  Milanese,  at  the  head  of  a  large  de- 
tachment of  troops,  with  orders  to  occupy  a  redoubt 
that  defended  the  Po,  and  to  come  by  the  bridge  to 
his  assistance,  when  the  struggle  commenced  in  the 
town;  and  he  charged  the  soldiers  secreted  in  the 
priest's  house  to  break  down  the  walled-up  gate,  so  as 
to  admit  the  troops  whom  he  would  lead  there. 

Everything,  thus  concerted  with  exactness,  was  ex- 
ecuted with  precision,  and  with  all  possible  secrecy 
and  success.  It  was  on  the  ist  of  February,  1702,  at 
break  of  day,  that  the  surprise  was  attempted.  The 
Marechal  de  Villeroy  had  only  arrived  in  the  town  on 
the  previous  night.  The  first  person  who  got  scent 
of  what  was  going  forward  was  the  cook  of  the 
Lieutenant-General  Crenan,  who  going  out  in  the  early 
morning  to  buy  provisions,  saw  the  streets  full  of  sol- 
diers, whose  uniforms  were  unknown  to  him.  He  ran 
back  and  awakened  his  master.  Neither  he  nor  his 
valets  would  believe  what  the  cook  said,  but  neverthe- 
less Crenan  hurriedly  dressed  himself,  went  out,  and 
was  only  too  soon  convinced  that  it  was  true. 

At  the  same  time,  by  a  piece  of  good  luck,  which 
proved  the  saving  of  Cremona,  a  regiment  under  the 
command  of  D'Entragues,  drew  up  in  battle  array  in 
one  of  the  public  places.  D'Entragues  was  a  bold  and 
skilful  soldier,  with  a  great  desire  to  distinguish  him- 
self. He  wished  to  review  this  regiment,  and  had 
commenced  business  before  the  dawn.  While  the  light 
was  still  uncertain  and  feeble,  and  his  battalions  were 
under  arms,  he  indistinctly  perceived  infantry  troops 
forming  at  the  end  of  the  street,  in  front  of  him.  He 
knew  by  the  orders  given  on  the  previous  evening  that 
no  other  review  was  to  take  place  except  his  own.  He 
immediately  feared,  therefore,  some  surprise,  marched 
at  once  to  these  troops,  whom  he  found  to  be  Im- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  257 

perialists,  charged  them,  overthrew  them,  sustained 
the  shock  of  the  fresh  troops  which  arrived,  and  kept 
up  a  defence  so  obstinate,  that  he  gave  time  to  all  the 
town  to  awake,  and  to  the  majority  of  the  troops  to 
take  up  arms.  Without  him,  all  would  have  been 
slaughtered  as  they  slept. 

Just  at  dawn  the  Marechal  de  Villeroy,  already  up 
and  dressed,  was  writing  in  his  chamber.  He  heard 
a  noise,  called  for  a  horse,  and  followed  by  a  single 
aide-de-camp  and  a  page,  threaded  his  way  through 
the  streets  to  the  grand  place,  which  is  always  the  ren- 
dezvous in  case  of  alarm.  At  the  turning  of  one  of  the 
streets  he  fell  into  the  midst  of  an  Imperialist  corps  de 
garde,  who  surrounded  him  and  arrested  him.  Feeling 
that  it  was  impossible  to  defend  himself,  the  Marechal 
de  Villeroy  whispered  his  name  to  the  officer,  and 
promised  him  ten  thousand  pistoles,  a  regiment,  and 
the  grandest  recompenses  from  the  King,  to  be  al- 
lowed to  escape.  The  officer  was,  however,  above  all 
bribes,  said  he  had  not  served  the  Emperor  so  long  in 
order  to  end  by  betraying  him,  and  conducted  the 
Marechal  de  Villeroy  to  Prince  Eugene,  who  did  not 
receive  him  so  well  as  he  himself  would  have  been  re- 
ceived, under  similar  circumstances,  by  the  Marechal. 
While  in  the  suite  of  Prince  Eugene,  Villeroy  saw 
Crenan  led  in  prisoner,  and  wounded  to  the  death,  and 
exclaimed  that  he  should  like  to  be  in  his  place.  A 
moment  after  they  were  both  sent  out  of  the  town, 
and  passed  the  day,  guarded,  in  the  coach  of  Prince 
Eugene. 

Revel,  become  commander-in-chief  by  the  capture 
of  the  Marechal  de  Villeroy,  tried  to  rally  the  troops. 
There  was  a  fight  in  every  street;  the  troops  dispersed 
about,  some  in  detachments,  several  scarcely  armed; 
some  only  in  their  shirts  fought  with  the  greatest 
bravery.     They  were  driven  at  last  to  the  ramparts, 


258  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

where  they  had  time  to  look  about  them,  to  rally  and 
form  themselves.  If  the  enemy  had  not  allowed  our 
troops  time  to  gain  the  ramparts,  or  if  they  had  driven 
them  beyond  this  position,  when  they  reached  it,  the 
town  could  never  have  held  out.  But  the  Imperialists 
kept  themselves  entirely  towards  the  centre  of  the 
town,  and  made  no  effort  to  fall  upon  our  men,  or  to 
drive  them  from  the  ramparts. 

Praslin,  who  had  the  command  of  our  cavalry,  put 
himself  at  the  head  of  some  Irish  battalions  which 
under  him  did  wonders.  Although  continually  oc- 
cupied in  defending  and  attacking,  Praslin  conceived 
the  idea  that  the  safety  of  Cremona  depended  upon 
the  destruction  of  the  bridge  of  the  Po,  so  that  the 
Imperialists  could  not  receive  reinforcements  from  that 
point.  He  repeated  this  so  many  times,  that  Revel  was 
informed  of  it,  and  ordered  Praslin  to  do  what  he 
thought  most  advisable  in  the  matter.  Thereupon, 
Praslin  instantly  commanded  the  bridge  to  be  broken 
down.  There  was  not  a  moment  to  lose.  Thomas 
de  Vaudemont  was  already  approaching  the  bridge  at 
the  head  of  his  troops.  But  the  bridge,  nevertheless, 
was  destroyed  before  his  eyes,  and  with  all  his  mus- 
keteers he  was  not  able  to  prevent  it. 

It  was  now  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  Prince 
Eugene  was  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  swearing  in  the 
magistrates.  Leaving  that  place,  and  finding  that  his 
troops  were  giving  way,  he  ascended  the  cathedral 
steeple  to  see  what  was  passing  in  different  parts  of  the 
town,  and  to  discover  why  the  troops  of  Thomas  de 
Vaudemont  did  not  arrive.  He  had  scarcely  reached 
the  top  of  the  steeple,  when  he  saw  his  detachments 
on  the  banks  of  the  Po,  and  the  bridge  broken,  thus 
rendering  their  assistance  useless.  He  was  not  more 
satisfied  with  what  he  discovered  in  every  other  di- 
rection.    Furious  at  seeing  his  enterprise  in  such  bad 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  259 

case,  after  having  been  so  nearly  successful,  he  de- 
scended, tearing  his  hair  and  yelling.  From  that  time, 
although  superior  in  force,  he  thought  of  nothing  but 
retreat. 

Revel,  who  saw  that  his  troops  were  overwhelmed 
by  hunger,  fatigue,  and  wounds,  for  since  the  break  of 
day  they  had  had  no  repose  or  leisure,  thought  on  his 
side  of  withdrawing  his  men  into  the  castle  of  Cre- 
mona, in  order,  at  least,  to  defend  himself  under  cover, 
and  to  obtain  a  capitulation.  So  that  the  two  opposing 
chiefs  each  thought  at  one  and  the  same  time  of 
retreat. 

Towards  the  evening  therefore  the  combat  slackened 
on  both  sides,  until  our  troops  made  a  last  effort  to 
drive  the  enemy  from  one  of  the  gates  of  the  town;  so 
as  to  have  that  gate  free  and  open  during  the  night 
to  let  in  assistance.  The  Irish  seconded  so  well  this 
attack,  that  it  was  at  length  successful.  A  tolerably 
long  calm  succeeded  this  last  struggle.  Revel,  never- 
theless, thought  of  withdrawing  his  troops  to  the 
castle,  when  Mahony,  an  Irish  officer  who  had  fought 
bravely  as  a  lion  all  day,  proposed  to  go  and  see  what 
was  passing  all  around.  It  was  already  growing  dark; 
the  reconnoiterers  profited  by  this.  They  saw  that 
everything  was  tranquil,  and  understood  that  the 
enemy  had  retreated.  This  grand  news  was  carried  to 
Revel,  who,  with  many  around  him,  was  a  long  time 
in  believing  it.  Persuaded  at  last,  he  left  everything 
as  it  was  then,  until  broad  daylight,  when  he  found 
that  the  enemy  had  gone,  and  that  the  streets  and  pub- 
lic places  were  filled  with  the  wounded,  the  dying,  and 
the  dead.  He  made  arrangements  for  everything,  and 
despatched  Mahony  to  the  King. 

Prince  Eugene  retreated  all  that  night  with  the  de- 
tachment he  had  led,  and  made  the  Marechal  de 
Villeroy,  disarmed  and  badly  mounted,  follow  him, 
Vol.  11  Memoirs — I 


260  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

very  indecently.  The  Marechal  was  afterwards  sent 
to  Gratz  in  Styria.  Crenan  died  in  the  coach  of  the 
Marechal  de  Villeroy.  D'Entragues,  to  whose  valour 
the  safety  of  Cremona  was  owing,  did  not  survive  this 
glorious  day.  Our  loss  was  great;  that  of  the  enemy 
greater. 

The  news  of  this,  the  most  surprising  event  that  has 
been  heard  of  in  recent  ages,  was  brought  to  the  King 
at  Marly  on  the  9th  of  February,  1702,  by  Mahony. 
Soon  after  it  arrived  I  heard  of  it,  and  at  once  has- 
tened to  the  chateau,  where  I  found  a  great  buzzing 
and  several  groups  of  people  talking.  Mahony  was 
closeted  a  long  time  with  the  King.  At  the  end  of 
an  hour  the  King  came  out  of  his  cabinet,  and  spoke 
strongly  in  praise  of  what  had  occurred.  He  took 
pleasure  in  dwelling  at  great  length  upon  Mahony,  and 
declared  that  he  had  never  heard  anybody  give  such 
a  clear  and  good  account  of  an  occurrence  as  he.  The 
King  kindly  added  that  he  should  bestow  a  thousand 
francs  a  year  upon  Mahony,  and  a  brevet  of  Colonel. 

In  the  evening  M.  le  Prince  de  Conti  told  me  that 
the  King  had  decorated  Revel,  and  made  Praslin  Lieu- 
tenant-General.  As  the  latter  was  one  of  my  particu- 
lar friends,  this  intelligence  gave  me  much  joy.  I 
asked  again  to  be  more  sure  of  the  news.  The  other 
principal  officers  were  advanced  in  proportion  to  their 
grades,  and  many  received  pensions. 

As  for  the  Marechal  de  Villeroy  he  was  treated  as 
those  who  excite  envy  and  then  become  unfortunate 
are  always  treated.  The  King,  however,  openly  took 
his  part;  and  in  truth  it  was  no  fault  of  the  Marechal, 
who  had  arrived  at  Cremona  the  day  before  the  sur- 
prise, that  he  was  taken  prisoner  directly  he  set  his 
foot  in  the  street.  How  could  he  know  of  the  aque- 
duct, the  barred-up  gate,  and  the  concealed  soldiers? 
Nevertheless,  his  friends  were  plunged  into  the  great- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  261 

est  grief,  and  his  wife,  who  had  not  been  duped  by 
the  eclat  which  accompanied  her  husband  upon  his  de- 
parture for  Italy,  but  who  feared  for  the  result,  was 
completely  overwhelmed,  and  for  a  long  time  could 
not  be  prevailed  upon  to  see  anybody. 

M.  de  Vendome  was  appointed  successor  to  M.  de 
Villeroy,  in  command  of  the  army  in  Italy. 


CHAPTER  XX 

BUT  it  is  time  now  for  me  to  go  back  to  other 
matters,  and  to  start  again  from  the  commence- 
ment of  1 70 1,  from  which  I  have  been  led  by- 
reciting,  in  a  continuous  story,  the  particulars  of  our 
first  campaign  in  Italy. 

Barbezieux  had  viewed  with  discontent  the  eleva- 
tion of  Chamillart.  His  pride  and  presumption  rose 
in  arms  against  it ;  but  as  there  was  no  remedy  he  gave 
himself  up  to  debauch,  to  dissipate  his  annoyance.  He 
had  built  between  Versailles  and  Vaucresson,  at  the 
end  of  the  park  of  Saint  Cloud,  a  house  in  the  open 
fields,  called  l'Etang,  which  though  in  the  dismallest 
position  in  the  world  had  cost  him  millions.  He  went 
there  to  feast  and  riot  with  his  friends;  and  commit- 
ting excesses  above  his  strength,  was  seized  with  a 
fever,  and  died  in  a  few  days,  looking  death  steadily 
in  the  face.  He  was  told  of  his  approaching  end  by 
the  Archbishop  of  Rheims;  for  he  would  not  believe 
Fagon. 

He  was  thirty-three  years  of  age,  with  a  striking  and 
expressive  countenance,  and  much  wit  and  aptitude 
for  labour.  He  was  remarkable  for  grace,  fine  man- 
ners, and  winning  ways;  but  his  pride  and  ambition 
were  excessive,  and  when  his  fits  of  ill-temper  came, 
nothing  could  repress  them.  Resistance  always  ex- 
cited and  irritated  him.  He  had  accustomed  the 
King — whenever  he  had  drunk  too  much,  or  when  a 
party  of  pleasure  was  toward — to  put  off  work  to  an- 
other time.  It  was  a  great  question,  whether  the  State 
gained  or  lost  most  by  his  death? 

262 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  263 

As  soon  as  he  was  dead,  Saint-Pouange  went  to 
Marly  to  tell  the  news  to  the  King,  who  was  so  pre- 
pared for  it  that  two  hours  before,  starting  from  Ver- 
sailles, he  had  left  La  Vrilliere  behind  to  put  the  seals 
everywhere.  Fagon,  who  had  condemned  him  at  once, 
had  never  loved  him  or  his  father,  and  was  accused 
of  overbleeding  him  on  purpose.  At  any  rate  he  al- 
lowed, at  one  of  his  last  visits,  expressions  of  joy  to 
escape  him  because  recovery  was  impossible.  Bar- 
bezieux  used  to  annoy  people  very  much  by  answering 
aloud  when  they  spoke  to  him  in  whispers,  and  by 
keeping  visitors  waiting  whilst  he  was  playing  with 
his  dogs  or  some  base  parasite. 

Many  people,  especially  divers  beautiful  ladies,  lost 
much  by  his  death.  Some  of  the  latter  looked  very 
disconsolate  in  the  salon  at  Marly;  but  when  they  had 
gone  to  table,  and  the  cake  had  been  cut  (it  was 
Twelfth  Night),  the  King  manifested  a  joy  which 
seemed  to  command  imitation.  He  was  not  content 
with  exclaiming  "  The  Queen  drinks,"  but  as  in  a  com- 
mon wine-shop,  he  clattered  his  spoon  and  fork  on  his 
plate,  and  made  others  do  so  likewise,  which  caused  a 
strange  din,  that  lasted  at  intervals  all  through  the 
supper.  The  snivellers  made  more  noise  than  the  oth- 
ers, and  uttered  louder  screams  of  laughter;  and  the 
nearest  relatives  and  best  friends  were  still  more 
riotous.  On  the  morrow  all  signs  of  grief  had 
disappeared. 

Chamillart  was  appointed  in  the  place  of  Barbe- 
zieux,  as  Secretary  of  State;  and  wanted  to  give  up 
the  Finance,  but  the  King,  remembering  the  disputes 
of  Louvois  and  Colbert,  insisted  on  his  occupying  both 
posts.  Chamillart  was  a  very  worthy  man,  with  clean 
hands  and  the  best  intentions,  polite,  patient,  oblig- 
ing, a  good  friend,  and  a  moderate  enemy,  loving  his 
country,  but  his  King  better;  and  on  very  good  terms 


264  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

with  him  and  Madame  de  Maintenon.    His  mind  was 
limited  and,  like  all  persons  of  little  wit  and  knowl- 
edge, he  was  obstinate  and  pig-headed — smiling  af- 
fectedly with  a  gentle  compassion  on  whoever  opposed 
reasons  to  his,  but  utterly  incapable  of  understanding 
them — consequently  a  dupe  in  friendship,  in  business, 
in  everything;  governed  by  all  who  could  manage  to 
win  his  admiration,  or  on  very  slight  grounds  could 
claim  his  affection.     His  capacity  was  small,  and  yet 
he  believed  he  knew  everything,  which  was  the  more 
pitiable,  as  all  this  came  to  him  with  his  places,  and 
arose  more  from  stupidity  than  presumption — not  at 
all  from  vanity,  of  which  he  was  divested.    The  most 
remarkable  thing  is  that  the  chief  origin  of  the  King's 
tender  regard  for  him  was  this  very  incapacity.     He 
used  to  confess  it  to  the  King  at  every  opportunity; 
and  the  King  took  pleasure  in  directing  and  instruct- 
ing him,  so  that  he  was  interested  in  his  successes  as 
if  they  had  been  his  own,  and  always  excused  him. 
The  world  and  the  Court  excused  him  also,  charmed 
by  the  facility  with  which  he  received  people,  the  pleas- 
ure he  felt  in  granting  requests  and  rendering  serv- 
ices, the  gentleness  and  regretfulness  of  his  refusals, 
and  his  indefatigable  patience  as  a  listener.    His  mem- 
ory was  so  great  that  he  remembered  all  matters  sub- 
mitted to  him,   which  gave  pleasure  to  people  who 
were  afraid  of  being  forgotten.    He  wrote  excellently; 
and  his  clear,  flowing,  and  precise  style  was  extremely 
pleasing  to  the  King  and  Madame  de  Maintenon,  who 
were  never  weary  of  praising  him,  encouraging  him, 
and  congratulating  themselves  for  having  placed  upon 
such  weak  shoulders  two  burdens,  each  of  which  was 
sufficient  to  overwhelm  the  most  sturdy. 

Rose,  secretary  in  the  King's  cabinet,  died,  aged 
about  eighty-six,  at  the  commencement  of  the  year 
(1701).    For  nearly  fifty  years  he  had  held  the  office 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  265 

of  the  "  pen,"  as  it  is  called.  To  have  the  "  pen,"  is 
to  be  a  public  forger,  and  to  do  what  would  cost  any- 
body else  his  life.  This  office  consists  in  imitating  so 
exactly  the  handwriting  of  the  King,  that  the  real  can- 
not be  distinguished  from  the  counterfeit.  In  this 
manner  are  written  all  the  letters  that  the  King  ought 
or  wishes  to  write  with  his  own  hand,  but  which,  nev- 
ertheless, he  will  not  take  the  trouble  to  write.  Sov- 
ereigns and  people  of  high  rank,  even  generals  and 
others  of  importance,  employ  a  secretary  of  this  kind. 
It  is  not  possible  to  make  a  great  King  speak  with 
more  dignity  than  did  Rose;  nor  with  more  fitness  to 
each  person,  and  upon  every  subject.  The  King 
signed  all  the  letters  Rose  wrote,  and  the  characters 
were  so  alike  it  was  impossible  to  find  the  smallest  dif- 
ference. Many  important  things  had  passed  through 
the  hands  of  Rose.  He  was  extremely  faithful  and 
secret,  and  the  King  put  entire  trust  in  him. 

Rose  was  artful,  scheming,  adroit,  and  dangerous. 
There  are  stories  without  number  of  him;  and  I  will 
relate  one  or  two  solely  because  they  characterise  him, 
and  those  to  whom  they  also  relate. 

He  had,  near  Chantilly,  a  nice  house  and  grounds 
that  he  much  liked,  and  that  he  often  visited.  This 
little  property  bordered  the  estate  of  M.  le  Prince,  who, 
not  liking  so  close  a  neighbour,  wished  to  get  rid  of 
him.  M.  le  Prince  endeavoured  to  induce  Rose  to 
give  up  his  house  and  grounds,  but  all  to  no  effect ;  and 
at  last  tried  to  annoy  him  in  various  ways  into  acqui- 
escence. Among  other  of  his  tricks,  he  put  about  four 
hundred  foxes,  old  and  young,  into  Rose's  park.  It 
may  be  imagined  what  disorder  this  company  made 
there,  and  the  surprise  of  Rose  and  his  servants  at  an 
inexhaustible  ant-hill  of  foxes  come  in  one  night! 

The  worthy  fellow,  who  was  anger  and  vehemence 
itself,  knew  only  too  well  who  had  treated  him  thus 


266  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

scurvily,  and  straightway  went  to  the  King,  requesting 
to  be  allowed  to  ask  him  rather  a  rough  question.  The 
King,  quite  accustomed  to  him  and  to  his  jokes,  for 
he  was  pleasant  and  very  witty,  demanded  what  was 
the  matter. 

'  What  is  the  matter,  Sire  ?  "  replied  Rose,  with  a 
face  all  flushed.  "  Why,  I  beg  you  will  tell  me  if  we 
have  two  Kings  in  France  ?  " 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  the  King,  surprised, 
and  flushing  in  his  turn. 

"  What  I  mean,  Sire,  is,  that  if  M.  le  Prince  is  King 
like  you,  folks  must  weep  and  lower  their  heads  before 
that  tyrant.  If  he  is  only  Prince  of  the  blood,  I  ask 
justice  from  you,  Sire,  for  you  owe  it  to  all  your  sub- 
jects, and  you  ought  not  to  suffer  them  to  be  the  prey 
of  M.  le  Prince,"  said  Rose;  and  he  related  everything 
that  had  taken  place,  concluding  with  the  adventure  of 
the  foxes. 

The  King  promised  that  he  would  speak  to  M.  le 
Prince  in  a  manner  to  insure  the  future  repose  of  Rose ; 
and,  indeed,  he  ordered  all  the  foxes  to  be  removed 
from  the  worthy  man's  park,  all  the  damages  they  had 
made  to  be  repaired,  and  all  the  expenses  incurred  to 
be  paid  by  M.  le  Prince.  M.  le  Prince  was  too  good 
a  courtier  to  fail  in  obeying  this  order,  and  never  after- 
wards troubled  Rose  in  the  least  thing;  but,  on  the 
contrary,  made  all  the  advances  towards  a  reconcilia- 
tion. Rose  was  obliged  to  receive  them,  but  held  him- 
self aloof,  nevertheless,  and  continually  let  slip  some 
raillery  against  M.  le  Prince.  I  and  fifty  others  were 
one  day  witnesses  of  this. 

M.  le  Prince  was  accustomed  to  pay  his  court  to  the 
ministers  as  they  stood  waiting  to  attend  the  council 
in  the  King's  chamber;  and  although  he  had  nothing 
to  say,  spoke  to  them  with  the  mien  of  a  client  obliged 
to  fawn.     One  morning,  when  there  was  a  large  as- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  267 

sembly  of  the  Court  in  this  chamber,  and  M.  le  Prince 
had  been  cajoling  the  ministers  with  much  suppleness 
and  flattery,  Secretary  Rose,  who  saw  what  had  been 
going  on,  went  up  to  him  on  a  sudden,  and  said  aloud, 
putting  one  finger  under  his  closed  eye,  as  was  some- 
times his  habit,  "  Sir,  I  have  seen  your  scheming  here 
with  all  these  gentlemen,  and  for  several  days;  it  is 
not  for  nothing.  I  have  known  the  Court  and  man- 
kind many  years;  and  am  not  to  be  imposed  upon:  I 
see  clearly  where  matters  point:"  and  this  with  turns 
and  inflections  of  voice  which  thoroughly  embarrassed 
M.  le  Prince,  who  defended  himself  as  he  could. 
Every  one  crowded  to  hear  what  was  going  on;  and 
at  last  Rose,  taking  M.  le  Prince  respectfully  by  his 
arm,  said,  with  a  cunning  and  meaning  smile,  "  Is  it 
not  that  you  wish  to  be  made  first  Prince  of  the  blood 
royal?  ':  Then  he  turned  on  his  heel,  and  slipped  off. 
The  Prince  was  stupefied;  and  all  present  tried  in  vain 
to  restrain  their  laughter. 

Rose  had  never  pardoned  M.  de  Duras  an  ill  turn 
the  latter  had  served  him.  During  one  of  the  Court 
journeys,  the  carriage  in  which  Rose  was  riding  broke 
down.  He  took  a  horse;  but,  not  being  a  good  eques- 
trian, was  very  soon  pitched  into  a  hole  full  of  mud. 
While  there  M.  de  Duras  passed,  and  Rose  from  the 
midst  of  the  mire  cried  for  help.  But  M.  de  Duras, 
instead  of  giving  assistance,  looked  from  his  coach- 
window,  burst  out  laughing,  and  cried  out :  "  What  a 
luxurious  horse  thus  to  roll  upon  Roses! " — and  with 
this  witticism  passed  gently  on  through  the  mud.  The 
next  comer,  the  Due  de  Coislin,  was  more  charitable; 
he  picked  up  the  worthy  man,  who  was  so  furious,  so 
carried  away  by  anger,  that  it  was  some  time  before  he 
could  say  who  he  was.  But  the  worst  was  to  come; 
for  M.  de  Duras,  who  feared  nobody,  and  whose 
tongue  was  accustomed  to  wag  as  freely  as  that  of 


268  DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON 

Rose,  told  the  story  to  the  King  and  to  all  the  Court, 
who  much  laughed  at  it.  This  outraged  Rose  to  such 
a  point,  that  he  never  afterwards  approached  M.  de 
Duras,  and  only  spoke  of  him  in  fury.  Whenever  he 
hazarded  some  joke  upon  M.  de  Duras,  the  King  be- 
gan to  laugh,  and  reminded  him  of  the  mud-ducking 
he  had  received. 

Towards  the  end  of  his  life,  Rose  married  his  grand- 
daughter, who  was  to  be  his  heiress,  to  Portail,  since 
Chief  President  of  the  Parliament.  The  marriage  was 
not  a  happy  one;  the  young  spouse  despised  her  hus- 
band; and  said  that  instead  of  entering  into  a  good 
house,  she  had  remained  at  the  portal.  At  last  her 
husband  and  his  father  complained  to  Rose.  He  paid 
no  attention  at  first;  but,  tired  out  at  last,  said  if  his 
granddaughter  persisted  in  her  bad  conduct,  he  would 
disinherit  her.    There  were  no  complaints  after  this. 

Rose  was  a  little  man,  neither  fat  nor  lean,  with  a 
tolerably  handsome  face,  keen  expression,  piercing 
eyes  sparkling  with  cleverness;  a  little  cloak,  a  satin 
skull-cap  over  his  grey  hairs,  a  smooth  collar,  almost 
like  an  Abbe's,  and  his  pocket-handkerchief  always  be- 
tween his  coat  and  his  vest.  He  used  to  say  that  it 
was  nearer  his  nose  there.  He  had  taken  me  into  his 
friendship.  He  laughed  very  freely  at  the  foreign 
princes;  and  always  called  the  Dukes  with  whom  he 
was  familiar,  "  Your  Ducal  Highness,"  in  ridicule  of 
the  sham  Highnesses.  He  was  extremely  neat  and 
brisk,  and  full  of  sense  to  the  last;  he  was  a  sort  of 
personage. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

ON  Saturday,  the  19th  of  March,  in  the  evening, 
the  King  was  about  to  undress  himself,  when 
he  heard  cries  in  his  chamber,  which  was  full 
of  courtiers;  everybody  calling  for  Fagon  and  Felix. 
Monseigneur  had  been  taken  very  ill.  He  had  passed 
the  day  at  Meudon,  where  he  had  eaten  only  a  colla- 
tion; at  the  King's  supper  he  had  made  amends  by 
gorging  himself  nigh  to  bursting  with  fish.  He  was 
a  great  eater,  like  the  King,  and  like  the  Queens  his 
mother  and  grandmother.  He  had  not  appeared  after 
supper,  but  had  just  gone  down  to  his  own  room  from 
the  King's  cabinet,  and  was  about  to  undress  himself, 
when  all  at  once  he  lost  consciousness.  His  valets, 
frightened  out  of  their  wits,  and  some  courtiers  who 
were  near,  ran  to  the  King's  chambers,  to  his  chief 
physician  and  his  chief  surgeon  with  the  hubbub 
which  I  have  mentioned  above.  The  King,  all  un- 
buttoned, started  to  his  feet  immediately,  and  de- 
scended by  a  little  dark,  narrow,  and  steep  staircase 
towards  the  chamber  of  Monseigneur.  Madame  la 
Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  arrived  at  the  same  time,  and 
in  an  instant  the  chamber,  which  was  vast,  was  filled. 

They  found  Monseigneur  half  naked :  his  servants 
endeavouring  to  make  him  walk  erect,  and  dragging 
rather  than  leading  him  about.  He  did  not  know  the 
King,  who  spoke  to  him,  nor  anybody  else;  and  de- 
fended himself  as  long  as  he  could  against  Felix,  who, 
in  this  pressing  necessity,  hazarded  bleeding  him,  and 
succeeded.  Consciousness  returned.  Monseigneur 
asked  for  a  confessor;  the  King  had  already  sent  for 

9A0 


270  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

the  cure.  Many  emetics  were  given  to  him:  but  two 
hours  passed  before  they  operated.  At  half-past  two 
in  the  morning,  no  further  danger  appearing,  the  King, 
who  had  shed  tears,  went  to  bed,  leaving  orders  that 
he  was  to  be  awakened  if  any  fresh  accident  happened. 
At  five  o'clock,  however,  all  the  effect  having  passed, 
the  doctors  went  away,  and  made  everybody  leave  the 
sick  chamber.  During  the  night  all  Paris  hastened 
thither.  Monseigneur  was  compelled  to  keep  his  room 
for  eight  or  ten  days;  and  took  care  in  future  not  to 
gorge  himself  so  much  with  food.  Had  this  accident 
happened  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  the  chief  valet  de 
chambre,  who  slept  in  his  room,  would  have  found  him 
dead  in  his  bed. 

Paris  loved  Monseigneur,  perhaps  because  he  often 
went  to  the  opera.  The  fish-fags  of  the  Halles  thought 
it  would  be  proper  to  exhibit  their  affection,  and  de- 
puted four  stout  gossips  to  wait  upon  him:  they  were 
admitted.  One  of  them  took  him  round  the  neck  and 
kissed  him  on  both  cheeks ;  the  others  kissed  his  hand. 
They  were  all  very  well  received.  Bontems  showed 
them  over  the  apartments,  and  treated  them  to  a  din- 
ner. Monseigneur  gave  them  some  money,  and  the 
King  did  so  also.  They  determined  not  to  remain  in 
debt,  and  had  a  fine  Te  Deum  sung  at  Saint  Eustache, 
and  then  feasted. 

For  some  time  past  Monsieur  had  been  sorely 
grieved  that  his  son,  M.  le  Due  de  Chartres,  had  not 
been  appointed  to  the  command  of  an  army.  When 
M.  de  Chartres  married,  the  King,  who  had  converted 
his  nephew  by  force  into  a  son-in-law,  promised  him 
all  kinds  of  favours;  but  except  those  which  were  writ- 
ten down  in  black  and  white  had  not  given  him  any. 
M.  de  Chartres,  annoyed  at  this,  and  at  the  manner  in 
which  the  illegitimate  children  were  promoted  over  his 
head,  had  given  himself  up  to  all  kinds  of  youthful  fol- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  271 

lies  and  excesses.  The  King  was  surprised  to  find 
Monsieur  agree  with  his  son's  ambition;  but  gave  a 
flat  refusal  when  overtures  were  made  to  him  on  the 
subject.  All  hope  of  rising  to  a  high  command  was 
thus  forbidden  to  the  Due  de  Chartres;  so  that  Ma- 
dame had  a  fine  excuse  for  sneering  at  the  weakness 
which  had  been  shown  by  Monsieur,  who,  on  his  part, 
had  long  before  repented  of  it.  He  winked,  therefore, 
at  all  the  escapades  performed  or  threatened  by  his 
son,  and  said  nothing,  not  being  sorry  that  the  King 
should  become  uneasy,  which  was  soon  the  case. 

The  King  at  last  spoke  to  Monsieur;  and  being 
coldly  received,  reproached  him  for  not  knowing  how 
to  exercise  authority  over  his  son.  Upon  this  Mon- 
sieur fired  up;  and,  quite  as  much  from  foregone  de- 
cision as  from  anger,  in  his  turn  asked  the  King  what 
was  to  be  done  with  a  son  at  such  an  age:  who  was 
sick  of  treading  the  galleries  of  Versailles  and  the 
pavement  of  the  Court;  of  being  married  as  he  was, 
and  of  remaining,  as  it  were,  naked,  whilst  his 
brothers-in-law  were  clothed  in  dignities,  governments, 
establishments,  and  offices, — against  all  policy  and  all 
example.  His  son,  he  said,  was  worse  off  than  any 
one  in  the  King's  service,  for  all  others  could  earn 
distinction;  added,  that  idleness  was  the  mother  of 
all  vice,  and  that  it  gave  him  much  pain  to  see  his  only 
son  abandon  himself  to  debauchery  and  bad  company; 
but  that  it  would  be  cruel  to  blame  a  young  man, 
forced  as  it  were  into  these  follies,  and  to  say  nothing 
against  him  by  whom  he  was  thus  forced. 

Who  was  astonished  to  hear  this  straightforward 
language?  Why,  the  King.  Monsieur  had  never  let 
out  to  within  a  thousand  leagues  of  this  tone,  which 
was  only  the  more  annoying  because  supported  by  un- 
answerable reasons  that  did  not  convince.  Mastering 
his  embarrassment,  however,  the  King  answered  as  a 


2J2  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

brother  rather  than  as  a  sovereign;  endeavouring,  by 
gentle  words,  to  calm  the  excitement  of  Monsieur. 
But  Monsieur  was  stung  to  the  quick  by  the  King's 
neglect  of  M.  de  Chartres,  and  would  not  be  pacified; 
yet  the  real  subject  of  the  annoyance  was  never  once 
alluded  to,  whilst  the  one  kept  it  steadily  in  his  mind, 
and  the  other  was  determined  not  to  yield.  The  con- 
versation lasted  very  long,  and  was  pushed  very  far; 
Monsieur  throughout  taking  the  high  tone,  the  King 
very  gentle.  They  separated  in  this  manner, — Mon- 
sieur frowning,  but  not  daring  to  burst  out;  the  King 
annoyed,  but  not  wishing  to  estrange  his  brother,  much 
less  to  let  their  squabble  be  known. 

As  Monsieur  passed  most  of  his  summers  at  Saint 
Cloud,  the  separation  which  this  occasioned  put  them 
at  their  ease  whilst  waiting  for  a  reconciliation;  and 
Monsieur  came  less  often  than  before,  but  when  he 
did  filled  all  their  private  interviews  with  bitter  talk. 
In  public  little  or  nothing  appeared,  except  that  famil- 
iar people  remarked  politeness  and  attention  on  the 
King's  part,  coldness  on  that  of  Monsieur — moods  not 
common  to  either.  Nevertheless,  being  advised  not  to 
push  matters  too  far,  he  read  a  lecture  to  his  son,  and 
made  him  change  his  conduct  by  degrees.  But  Mon- 
sieur still  remained  irritated  against  the  King;  and 
this  completely  upset  him,  accustomed  as  he  always 
had  been  to  live  on  the  best  of  terms  with  his  brother, 
and  to  be  treated  by  him  in  every  respect  as  such — 
except  that  the  King  would  not  allow  Monsieur  to 
become  a  great  personage. 

Ordinarily,  whenever  Monsieur  or  Madame  were 
unwell,  even  if  their  little  finger  ached,  the  King  vis- 
ited them  at  once;  and  continued  his  visits  if  the  sick- 
ness lasted.  But  now,  Madame  had  been  laid  up  for 
six  weeks  with  a  tertian  fever,  for  which  she  would 
do  nothing,  because  she  treated  herself  in  her  German 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  273 

fashion,  and  despised  physic  and  doctors.  The  King, 
who,  besides  the  affair  of  M.  le  Due  de  Chartres,  was 
secretly  angered  with  her,  as  will  presently  be  seen, 
had  not  been  to  see  her,  although  Monsieur  had  urged 
him  to  do  so  during  those  flying  visits  which  he  made 
to  Versailles  without  sleeping  there.  This  was  taken 
by  Monsieur,  who  was  ignorant  of  the  private  cause 
of  indignation  alluded  to,  for  a  public  mark  of  ex- 
treme disrespect;  and  being  proud  and  sensitive  he  was 
piqued  thereby  to  the  last  degree. 

He  had  other  mental  troubles  to  torment  him.  For 
some  time  past  he  had  had  a  confessor  who,  although 
a  Jesuit,  kept  as  tight  a  hand  over  him  as  he  could.  He 
was  a  gentleman  of  good  birth,  and  of  Brittany,  by 
name  le  Pere  du  Trevoux.  He  forbade  Monsieur  not 
only  certain  strange  pleasures,  but  many  which  he 
thought  he  could  innocently  indulge  in  as  a  penance 
for  his  past  life.  He  often  told  him  that  he  had  no 
mind  to  be  damned  on  his  account;  and  that  if  he  was 
thought  too  harsh  let  another  confessor  be  appointed. 
He  also  told  him  to  take  great  care  of  himself,  as  he 
was  old,  worn  out  with  debauchery,  fat,  short-necked, 
and,  according  to  all  appearance,  likely  to  die  soon  of 
apoplexy.  These  were  terrible  words  to  a  prince  the 
most  voluptuous  and  the  most  attached  to  life  that  had 
been  seen  for  a  long  time;  who  had  always  passed 
his  days  in  the  most  luxurious  idleness  and  who  was 
the  most  incapable  by  nature  of  all  serious  application, 
of  all  serious  reading,  and  of  all  self-examination.  He 
was  afraid  of  the  devil;  and  he  remembered  that  his 
former  confessor  had  resigned  for  similar  reasons  as- 
this  new  one  was  actuated  by.  He  was  forced  now, 
therefore,  to  look  a  little  into  himself,  and  to  live  in  a 
manner  that,  for  him,  might  be  considered  rigid.  From 
time  to  time  he  said  many  prayers;  he  obeyed  his 
confessor,  and  rendered  an  account  to  him  of  the  con- 


274  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

duct  he  had  prescribed  in  respect  to  play  and  many 
other  things,  and  patiently  suffered  his  confessor's 
long  discourses.  He  became  sad,  dejected,  and  spoke 
less  than  usual — that  is  to  say,  only  about  as  much 
as  three  or  four  women — so  that  everybody  soon  saw 
this  great  change.  It  would  have  been  strange  if  all 
these  troubles  together  had  not  made  a  great  revolu- 
tion in  a  man  like  Monsieur,  full-bodied,  and  a  great 
eater,  not  only  at  meals,  but  all  the  day. 

On  Thursday,  the  8th  of  June,  he  went  from  Saint 
Cloud  to  dine  with  the  King  at  Marly;  and,  as  was 
his  custom,  entered  the  cabinet  as  soon  as  the  Coun- 
cil of  State  went  out.  He  found  the  King  angry  with 
M.  de  Chartres  for  neglecting  his  wife,  and  allowing 
her  to  seek  consolation  for  this  neglect  in  the  society 
of  others.  M.  de  Chartres  was  at  that  time  enamoured 
of  Mademoiselle  de  Sary,  maid  of  honour  to  Madame, 
and  carried  on  his  suit  in  the  most  open  and  flagrant 
manner.  The  King  took  this  for  his  theme,  and  very 
stiffly  reproached  Monsieur  for  the  conduct  of  his  son. 
Monsieur,  who  needed  little  to  exasperate  him,  tartly 
replied,  that  fathers  who  had  led  certain  lives  had  little 
authority  over  their  children,  and  little  right  to  blame 
them.  The  King,  who  felt  the  point  of  the  answer,  fell 
back  on  the  patience  of  his  daughter,  and  said  that  at 
least  she  ought  not  to  be  allowed  to  see  the  truth  so 
clearly.  But  Monsieur  was  resolved  to  have  his  fling, 
and  recalled,  in  the  most  aggravating  manner,  the  con- 
duct the  King  had  adopted  towards  his  Queen,  with 
respect  to  his  mistresses,  even  allowing  the  latter  to 
accompany  him  in  his  journeys — the  Queen  at  his  side, 
and  all  in  the  same  coach.  This  last  remark  drove  the 
King  beyond  all  patience,  and  he  redoubled  his  re- 
proaches, so  that  presently  both  were  shouting  to  each 
other  at  the  top  of  their  voices.  The  door  of  the 
room  in  which  they  wrangled  was  open,  and  only  cov- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  275 

ered  by  a  curtain,  as  was  the  custom  at  Marly,  and  the 
adjoining  room  was  full  of  courtiers,  waiting  to  see  the 
King  go  by  to  dinner.  On  the  other  side  was  a  little 
salon,  devoted  to  very  private  purposes,  and  filled  with 
valets,  who  could  hear  distinctly  every  word  of  what 
passed.  The  attendant  without,  upon  hearing  this 
noise,  entered,  and  told  the  King  how  many  people 
were  within  hearing,  and  immediately  retired.  The 
conversation  did  not  stop,  however;  it  was  simply 
carried  on  in  a  lower  tone.  Monsieur  continued  his 
reproaches;  said  that  the  King,  in  marrying  his  daugh- 
ter to  M.  de  Chartres,  had  promised  marvels,  and  had 
done  nothing;  that  for  his  part  he  had  wished  his  son 
to  serve,  to  keep  him  out  of  the  way  of  these  intrigues, 
but  that  his  demands  had  been  vain;  that  it  was  no 
wonder  M.  de  Chartres  amused  himself,  by  way  of 
consolation,  for  the  neglect  he  had  been  treated  with. 
Monsieur  added,  that  he  saw  only  too  plainly  the  truth 
of  what  had  been  predicted,  namely,  that  he  would 
have  all  the  shame  and  dishonour  of  the  marriage 
without  ever  deriving  any  profit  from  it.  The  King, 
more  and  more  carried  away  by  anger,  replied,  that 
the  war  would  soon  oblige  him  to  make  some  retrench- 
ments, and  that  he  would  commence  by  cutting  down 
the  pensions  of  Monsieur,  since  he  showed  himself  so 
little  accommodating. 

At  this  moment  the  King  was  informed  that  his  din- 
ner was  ready,  and  both  he  and  Monsieur  left  the 
room  and  went  to  table, — Monsieur,  all  fury,  flushed, 
and  with  eyes  inflamed  by  anger.  His  face  thus  crim- 
soned induced  some  ladies  who  were  at  table,  and  some 
courtiers  behind — but  more  for  the  purpose  of  saying 
something  than  anything  else — to  make  the  remark, 
that  Monsieur,  by  his  appearance,  had  great  need  of 
bleeding.  The  same  thing  had  been  said  some  time 
before  at  Saint  Cloud;  he  was  absolutely  too  full;  and, 


276  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

indeed,  he  had  himself  admitted  that  it  was  true.  Even 
the  King,  in  spite  of  their  squabbles,  had  more  than 
once  pressed  him  to  consent.  But  Tancrede,  his  head 
surgeon,  was  old,  and  an  unskilful  bleeder:  he  had 
missed  fire  once.  Monsieur  would  not  be  bled  by  him; 
and  not  to  vex  him  was  good  enough  to  refuse  being 
bled  by  another,  and  to  die  in  consequence. 

Upon  hearing  this  observation  about  bleeding,  the 
King  spoke  to  him  again  on  the  subject;  and  said  that 
he  did  not  know  what  prevented  him  from  having  him 
at  once  taken  to  his  room,  and  bled  by  force.  The  din- 
ner passed  in  the  ordinary  manner;  and  Monsieur  ate 
extremely,  as  he  did  at  all  his  meals,  to  say  nothing  of 
an  abundant  supply  of  chocolate  in  the  morning,  and 
what  he  swallowed  all  day  in  the  shape  of  fruit,  pastry, 
preserves,  and  every  kind  of  dainties,  with  which  in- 
deed the  tables  of  his  cabinets  and  his  pockets  were 
always  filled. 

Upon  rising  from  the  table,  the  King,  in  his  car- 
riage, alone  went  to  Saint  Germain,  to  visit  the  King 
and  Queen  of  England.  Other  members  of  the  family 
went  there  likewise  separately;  and  Monsieur,  after 
going  there  also,  returned  to  Saint  Cloud. 

In  the  evening,  after  supper,  the  King  was  in  his 
cabinet,  with  Monseigneur  and  the  Princesses,  as  at 
Versailles,  when  a  messenger  came  from  Saint  Cloud, 
and  asked  to  see  the  King  in  the  name  of  the  Due  de 
Chartres.  He  was  admitted  into  the  cabinet,  and  said 
that  Monsieur  had  been  taken  very  ill  while  at  supper; 
that  he  had  been  bled,  that  he  was  better,  but  that  an 
emetic  had  been  given  to  him.  The  fact  was,  Mon- 
sieur had  supped  as  usual  with  the  ladies,  who  were 
at  Saint  Cloud.  During  the  meal,  as  he  poured  out  a 
glass  of  liqueur  for  Madame  de  Bouillon,  it  was  per- 
ceived that  he  stammered,  and  pointed  at  something 
with  his  hand.    As  it  was  customary  with  him  some- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  277 

times  to  speak  Spanish,  some  of  the  ladies  asked  what 
he  said,  others  cried  aloud.  All  this  was  the  work  of 
an  instant,  and  immediately  afterwards  Monsieur  fell 
in  a  fit  of  apoplexy  upon  M.  de  Chartres,  who  sup- 
ported him.  He  was  taken  into  his  room,  shaken, 
moved  about,  bled  considerably,  and  had  strong  emetics 
administered  to  him,  but  scarcely  any  signs  of  life  did 
he  show. 

Upon  hearing  this  news,  the  King,  who  had  been 
accustomed  to  fly  to  visit  Monsieur  for  a  mere  nothing, 
went  to  Madame  de  Maintenon's,  and  had  her  waked 
up.  He  passed  a  quarter  of  an  hour  with  her,  and 
then,  towards  midnight,  returning  to  his  room,  or- 
dered his  coach  to  be  got  ready,  and  sent  the  Mar- 
quis de  Gesvres  to  Saint  Cloud,  to  see  if  Monsieur  was 
worse,  in  which  case  he  was  to  return  and  wake  him; 
and  they  went  quickly  to  bed.  Besides  the  particular 
relations  in  which  they  were  at  that  time,  I  think  that 
the  King  suspected  some  artifice ;  that  he  went  in  con- 
sequence to  consult  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  pre- 
ferred sinning  against  all  laws  of  propriety  to  running 
the  chance  of  being  duped.  Madame  de  Maintenon 
did  not  like  Monsieur.  She  feared  him.  He  paid  her 
very  little  court,  and  despite  all  his  timidity  and  his 
more  than  deference,  observations  escaped  him  at 
times,  when  he  was  with  the  King,  which  marked  his 
disdain  of  her,  and  the  shame  that  he  felt  of  public 
opinion.  She  was  not  eager,  therefore,  to  advise  the 
King  to  go  and  visit  him,  still  less  to  commence  a  jour- 
ney by  night, — the  loss  of  rest,  and  the  witnessing  a 
spectacle  so  sad,  and  so  likely  to  touch  him,  and  make 
him  make  reflections  on  himself;  for  she  hoped  that 
if  things  went  quietly  he  might  be  spared  the  trouble 
altogether. 

A  moment  after  the  King  had  got  into  bed,  a  page 
came  to  say  that  Monsieur  was  better,  and  that  he  had 


278  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

just  asked  for  some  Schaffhausen  water,  which  is  ex- 
cellent for  apoplexy.  An  hour  and  a  half  later,  an- 
other messenger  came,  awakened  the  King,  and  told 
him  that  the  emetic  had  no  effect,  and  that  Monsieur 
was  very  ill.  At  this  the  King  rose  and  set  out  at  once. 
On  the  way  he  met  the  Marquis  de  Gesvres,  who  was 
coming  to  fetch  him,  and  brought  similar  news.  It 
may  be  imagined  what  a  hubbub  and  disorder  there 
was  this  night  at  Marly,  and  what  horror  at  Saint 
Cloud,  that  palace  of  delight !  Everybody  who  was  at 
Marly  hastened  as  he  was  best  able  to  Saint  Cloud. 
Whoever  was  first  ready  started  together.  Men  and 
women  jostled  each  other,  and  then  threw  themselves 
into  the  coaches  without  order  and  without  regard  to 
etiquette.  Monseigneur  was  with  Madame  la  Du- 
chesse.  He  was  so  struck  by  what  had  occurred,  and 
its  resemblance  to  what  he  himself  had  experienced, 
that  he  could  scarcely  stand,  and  was  dragged,  almost 
carried,  to  the  carriage,  all  trembling. 

The  King  arrived  at  Saint  Cloud  before  three  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  Monsieur  had  not  had  a  moment's 
consciousness  since  his  attack.  A  ray  of  intelligence 
came  to  him  for  an  instant,  while  his  confessor,  Pere 
du  Trevoux,  went  to  say  mass,  but  it  returned  no  more. 
The  most  horrible  sights  have  often  ridiculous  con- 
trasts. When  the  said  confessor  came  back,  he  cried, 
"Monsieur,  do  you  not  know  your  confessor?  Do 
you  not  know  the  good  little  Pere  du  Trevoux,  who  is 
speaking  to  you?"  and  thus  caused  the  less  afflicted 
to  laugh  indecently. 

The  King  appeared  much  moved;  naturally  he  wept 
with  great  facility;  he  was,  therefore,  all  tears.  He 
had  never  had  cause  not  to  love  his  brother  tenderly; 
although  on  bad  terms  with  him  for  the  last  two 
months,  these  sad  moments  recalled  all  his  tenderness; 
perhaps,  too,  he  reproached  himself  for  having  has- 


DUKE  OF  SAINTNSIMON  279 

tened  death  by  the  scene  of  the  morning.  And  finally, 
Monsieur  was  younger  than  he  by  two  years,  and  all 
his  life  had  enjoyed  as  good  health  as  he,  and  better! 
The  King  heard  mass  at  Saint  Cloud;  and,  towards 
eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Monsieur  being  past  all 
hope,  Madame  de  Maintenon  and  Madame  la  Du- 
chesse  de  Bourgogne  persuaded  the  King  to  stay  no 
longer,  and  accordingly  returned  with  him  in  his  car- 
riage to  Marly.  As  he  was  going  out  and  was  show- 
ing some  sign  of  affection  to  M.  de  Chartres — both 
weeping  very  much — that  young  Prince  did  not  fail 
to  take  advantage  of  the  opportunity.  "Oh  Sire!" 
he  exclaimed,  embracing  the  King's  thighs,  "  what  will 
become  of  me?  I  lose  Monsieur,  and  I  know  that  you 
do  not  like  me."  The  King,  surprised  and  much 
touched,  embraced  him,  and  said  all  the  tender  things 
he  could. 

On  arriving  at  Marly,  the  King  went  with  the 
Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  to  Madame  de  Maintenon. 
Three  hours  after  came  M.  Fagon,  who  had  been 
ordered  not  to  leave  Monsieur  until  he  was  dead  or 
better — which  could  not  be  but  by  miracle.  The  King 
said,  as  soon  as  he  saw  him :  "  Well !  M.  Fagon,  my 
brother  is  dead?"  "Yes,  Sire/'  said  Fagon,  "no 
remedy  has  taken  effect." 

The  King  wept  a  good  deal.  He  was  pressed  to  dine 
with  Madame  de  Maintenon;  but  he  would  not  do  so, 
and  had  his  dinner,  as  usual,  with  the  ladies.  The  tears 
often  ran  down  his  cheek,  during  the  meal,  which  was 
short.  After  this,  he  shut  himself  up  in  Madame  de 
Maintenon's  rooms  until  seven  o'clock,  and  then  took 
a  turn  in  his  garden.  Afterwards  he  worked  with 
Chamillart  and  Pontchartrain;  and  arranged  all  the 
funeral  ceremonies  of  Monsieur.  He  supped  an  hour 
before  his  customary  time,  and  went  to  bed  soon 
afterwards. 

At  the  departure  from  St.  Cloud  of  the  King,  all  the 


28o  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

crowd  assembled  there  little  by  little  withdrew,  so  that 
Monsieur  dying,  stretched  upon  a  couch  in  his  cabinet, 
remained  exposed  to  the  scullions  and  the  lower  of- 
ficers of  the  household,  the  majority  of  whom,  either 
by  affection  or  interest,  were  much  afflicted.  The  chief 
officers  and  others  who  lost  posts  and  pensions  filled 
the  air  with  their  cries;  whilst  all  the  women  who  were 
at  Saint  Cloud,  and  who  lost  their  consideration  and 
their  amusement,  ran  here  and  there,  crying,  with  di- 
shevelled hair,  like  Bacchantes.  The  Duchesse  de  la 
Ferte,  who  had  basely  married  her  daughter  to  one  of 
Monsieur's  minions,  named  La  Carte,  came  into  the 
cabinet;  and,  whilst  gazing  on  the  Prince,  who  still 
palpitated  there,  exclaimed,  giving  vent  to  her  pro- 
found reflections,  "  Pardi!  Here  is  a  daughter  well 
married !  " 

"A  very  important  matter!"  cried  Chatillon,  who 
himself  lost  everything  by  this  death.  "  Is  this  a  mo- 
ment to  consider  whether  your  daughter  is  well  mar- 
ried or  not?  " 

Madame,  who  had  never  had  great  affection  or  great 
esteem  for  Monsieur,  but  who  felt  her  loss  and  her  fall, 
meanwhile  remained  in  her  cabinet,  and  in  the  midst  of 
her  grief  cried  out,  with  all  her  might,  "  No  convent! 
Let  no  one  talk  of  a  convent !  I  will  have  nothing  to 
do  with  a  convent ! ':  The  good  Princess  had  not  lost 
her  judgment.  She  knew  that,  by  her  compact  of  mar- 
riage, she  had  to  choose,  on  becoming  a  widow,  be- 
tween a  convent  and  the  chateau  of  Montargis.  She 
liked  neither  alternative;  but  she  had  greater  fear  of 
the  convent  than  of  Montargis;  and  perhaps  thought 
it  would  be  easier  to  escape  from  the  latter  than  the 
former.  She  knew  she  had  much  to  fear  from  the 
King,  although  she  did  not  yet  know  all,  and  although 
he  had  been  properly  polite  to  her,  considering  the 
occasion. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  281 

Next  morning,  Friday,  M.  de  Chartres,  came  to  the 
King,  who  was  still  in  bed,  and  who  spoke  to  him  in  a 
very  friendly  manner.  He  said  that  the  Duke  must  for 
the  future  regard  him  as  his  father;  that  he  would 
take  care  of  his  position  and  his  interests;  that  he  had 
forgotten  all  the  little  causes  of  anger  he  had  had 
against  him;  that  he  hoped  the  Duke  would  also  for- 
get them;  that  he  begged  that  the  advances  of  friend- 
ship he  made  him  might  serve  to  attach  him  to  him, 
and  make  their  two  hearts  belong  to  one  another 
again.  It  may  easily  be  conceived  how  well  M.  de 
Chartres  answered  all  this. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A  FTER  such  a  frightful  spectacle  as  had  been  wit- 
Z\  nessed,  so  many  tears  and  so  much  tenderness, 
■*-  ■*■  nobody  doubted  that  the  three  days  which  re- 
mained of  the  stay  at  Marly  would  be  exceedingly  sad. 
But,  on  the  very  morrow  of  the  day  on  which  Mon- 
sieur died,  some  ladies  of  the  palace,  upon  entering 
the  apartments  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  where  was 
the  King  with  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  about 
twelve  o'clock,  heard  her  from  the  chamber  where 
they  were,  next  to  hers,  singing  opera  tunes.  A  lit- 
tle while  after,  the  King,  seeing  the  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne very  sad  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  asked  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon,  with  surprise,  why  the  said 
Duchess  was  so  melancholy;  set  himself  to  work  to 
rouse  her;  then  played  with  her  and  some  ladies  of 
the  palace  he  had  called  in  to  join  in  the  sport.  This 
was  not  all.  Before  rising  from  the  dinner  table,  at 
a  little  after  two  o'clock,  and  twenty-six  hours  after 
the  death  of  Monsieur,  Monseigneur  the  Due  de  Bour- 
gogne asked  the  Due  de  Montfort  if  he  would  play  at 
brelan. 

"  At  brelan!  "  cried  Montfort,  in  extreme  astonish- 
ment; "  you  cannot  mean  it!    Monsieur  is  still  warm." 

"  Pardon  me,"  replied  the  Prince,  "  I  do  mean  it 
though.  The  King  does  not  wish  that  we  should  be 
dull  here  at  Marly,  and  has  ordered  me  to  make 
everybody  play;  and,  for  fear  that  nobody  should  dare 
to  begin,  to  set,  myself,  the  example;"  and  with  this  he 
began  to  play  at  brelan;  and  the  salon  was  soon  filled 
with  gaming  tables. 

282 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  283 

Such  was  the  affection  of  the  King:  such  that  of 
Madame  de  Maintenon !  She  felt  the  loss  of  Monsieur 
as  a  deliverance,  and  could  scarcely  restrain  her  joy; 
and  it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  she  succeeded  in 
putting  on  a  mournful  countenance.  She  saw  that 
the  King  was  already  consoled;  nothing  could  there- 
fore be  more  becoming  than  for  her  to  divert  him,  and 
nothing  suited  her  better  than  to  bring  things  back  into 
their  usual  course,  so  that  there  might  be  no  more  talk 
of  Monsieur  nor  of  affliction.  For  propriety  of  ap- 
pearance she  cared  nothing.  The  thing  could  not  fail, 
however,  to  be  scandalous;  and  in  whispers  was  found 
so.  Monseigneur,  though  he  had  appeared  to  like 
Monsieur,  who  had  given  him  all  sorts  of  balls  and 
amusements,  and  shown  him  every  kind  of  attention 
and  complaisance,  went  out  wolf  hunting  the  very  day 
after  his  death;  and,  upon  his  return,  finding  play  go- 
ing on  in  the  salons,  went  without  hesitation  and 
played  himself  like  the  rest.  Monseigneur  le  Due  de 
Bourgogne  and  M.  le  Due  de  Berry  only  saw  Mon- 
sieur on  public  occasions,  and  therefore  could  not  be 
much  moved  by  his  loss.  But  Madame  la  Duchesse 
was  extremely  touched  by  this  event.  He  was  her 
grandfather;  and  she  tenderly  loved  her  mother,  who 
loved  Monsieur;  and  Monsieur  had  always  been  very 
kind  to  her,  and  provided  all  kinds  of  diversion  for 
her.  Although  not  very  loving  to  anybody,  she  loved 
Monsieur;  and  was  much  affected  not  to  dare  to  show 
her  grief,  which  she  indulged  a  long  time  in  private. 
What  the  grief  of  Madame  was  has  already  been 
seen. 

As  for  M.  de  Chartres,  he  was  much  affected  by  his 
loss.  The  father  and  son  loved  each  other  extremely. 
Monsieur  was  a  gentle  and  indulgent  parent,  who  had 
never  constrained  his  son.  But  if  the  Duke's  heart  was 
touched,  his  reason  also  was.     Besides  the  great  as- 


284  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

sistance  it  was  to  him  to  have  a  father,  brother  of  the 
King,  that  father  was,  as  it  were,  a  barrier  between 
him  and  the  King,  under  whose  hand  he  now  found 
himself  directly  placed.  His  greatness,  his  considera- 
tion, the  comfort  of  his  house  and  his  life,  would, 
therefore,  depend  on  him  alone.  Assiduity,  propriety 
of  conduct,  a  certain  manner,  and,  above  all,  a  very 
different  deportment  towards  his  wife,  would  now  be- 
come the  price  of  everything  he  could  expect  to  obtain 
from  the  King.  Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Chartres,  al- 
though well  treated  by  Monsieur,  was  glad  to  be  de-^ 
livered  from  him;  for  he  was  a  barrier  betwixt  her  and 
the  King,  that  left  her  at  the  mercy  of  her  husband. 
She  was  charmed  to  be  quit  of  the  duty  of  following 
Monsieur  to  Paris  or  Saint  Cloud,  where  she  found 
herself,  as  it  were,  in  a  foreign  country,  with  faces 
which  she  never  saw  anywhere  else,  which  did  not 
make  her  welcome;  and  where  she  was  exposed  to  the 
contempt  and  humour  of  Madame,  who  little  spared 
her.  She  expected  for  the  future  never  to  leave  the 
Court,  and  to  be  not  only  exempt  from  paying  her 
court  to  Monsieur,  but  that  Madame  and  her  husband 
would  for  the  future  be  obliged  to  treat  her  in  quite 
another  manner. 

The  bulk  of  the  Court  regretted  Monsieur,  for  it 
was  he  who  set  all  pleasure  a-going;  and  when  he  left 
it,  life  and  merriment  seemed  to  have  disappeared  like- 
wise. Setting  aside  his  obstinacy  with  regard  to  the 
Princes,  he  loved  the  order  of  rank,  preferences,  and 
distinctions :  he  caused  them  to  be  observed  as  much 
as  possible,  and  himself  set  the  example.  He  loved 
great  people;  and  was  so  affable  and  polite,  that 
crowds  came  to  him.  The  difference  which  he  knew 
how  to  make,  and  which  he  never  failed  to  make, 
between  every  one  according  to  his  position,  contrib- 
uted greatly  to  his  popularity.     In  his  receptions,  by 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  285 

his  greater  or  less,  or  more  neglectful  attention,  and 
by  his  words,  he  always  marked  in  a  flattering  manner 
the  differences  made  by  birth  and  dignity,  by  age  and 
merit,  and  by  profession;  and  all  this  with  a  dignity 
natural  to  him,  and  a  constant  facility  which  he  had 
acquired.  His  familiarity  obliged,  and  yet  no  rash 
people  ever  ventured  to  take  advantage  of  it.  He  vis- 
ited or  sent  exactly  when  it  was  proper;  and  under 
his  roof  he  allowed  a  complete  liberty,  without  injury 
to  the  respect  shown  him,  or  to  a  perfect  court  air. 
He  had  learned  from  the  Queen  his  mother,  and  well 
remembered  this  art.  The  crowd,  therefore,  constantly 
flocked  towards  the  Palais  Royal. 

At  Saint  Cloud,  where  all  his  numerous  household 
used  to  assemble,  there  were  many  ladies  who,  to 
speak  the  truth,  would  scarcely  have  been  received 
elsewhere,  but  many  also  of  a  higher  set,  and  great 
store  of  gamblers.  The  pleasures  of  all  kinds  of 
games,  and  the  singular  beauty  of  the  place,  where  a 
thousand  caleches  were  always  ready  to  whirl  even 
the  most  lazy  ladies  through  the  walks,  soft  music  and 
good  cheer,  made  it  a  palace  of  delight,  grace,  and 
magnificence. 

All  this  without  any  assistance  from  Madame,  who 
dined  and  supped  with  the  ladies  and  Monsieur,  rode 
out  sometimes  in  a  caleche  with  one  of  them,  often 
sulked  with  the  company,  made  herself  feared  for  her 
harsh  and  surly  temper — frequently  even  for  her 
words;  and  passed  her  days  in  a  little  cabinet  she  had 
chosen,  where  the  windows  were  ten  feet  from  the 
ground,  gazing  perpetually  on  the  portraits  of  Pala- 
dins and  other  German  princes,  with  which  she  had 
tapestried  the  walls;  and  writing  every  day  with  her 
own  hand  whole  volumes  of  letters,  of  which  she  al- 
ways kept  autograph  copies.  Monsieur  had  never  been 
able  to  bend  her  to  a  more  human  way  of  life;  and 


286  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

lived  decently  with  her,  without  caring  for  her  person 
in  any  way. 

For  his  part,  Monsieur,  who  had  very  gallantly  won 
the  battle  of  Cassel,  and  who  had  always  shown  cour- 
age in  the  sieges  where  he  had  served,  had  only  the 
bad  qualities  that  distinguish  women.  With  more 
knowledge  of  the  world  than  wit,  with  no  reading, 
though  he  had  a  vast  and  exact  acquaintance  with 
noble  houses,  their  births  and  marriages,  he  was  good 
for  nothing.  Nobody  was  so  flabby  in  body  and  mind, 
no  one  so  weak,  so  timid,  so  open  to  deception,  so  led 
by  the  nose,  so  despised  by  his  favourites,  often  so 
roughly  treated  by  them.  He  was  quarrelsome  in 
small  matters,  incapable  of  keeping  any  secret,  sus- 
picious, mistrustful;  fond  of  spreading  reports  in  his 
Court  to  make  mischief,  to  learn  what  was  really  go- 
ing on  or  just  to  amuse  himself:  he  fetched  and  car- 
ried from  one  to  the  other.  With  so  many  defects, 
unrelated  to  any  virtue,  he  had  such  an  abominable 
taste,  that  his  gifts  and  the  fortunes  that  he  gave  to 
those  he  took  into  favour  had  rendered  him  publicly 
scandalous.  He  neither  respected  times  nor  places. 
His  minions,  who  owed  him  everything,  sometimes 
treated  him  most  insolently;  and  he  had  often  much 
to  do  to  appease  horrible  jealousies.  He  lived  in  con- 
tinual hot  water  with  his  favourites,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  quarrels  of  that  troop  of  ladies  of  a  very  de- 
cided character — many  of  whom  were  very  malicious, 
and,  most,  more  than  malicious — with  whom  Mon- 
sieur used  to  divert  himself,  entering  into  all  their 
wretched  squabbles. 

The  Chevaliers  de  Lorraine  and  Chatillon  had  both 
made  a  large  fortune  by  their  good  looks,  with  which 
he  was  more  smitten  than  with  those  of  any  other  of 
his  favourites.  Chatillon,  who  had  neither  head,  nor 
sense,  nor  wit,  got  on  in  this  way,  and  acquired  for- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  287 

tune.  The  other  behaved  like  a  Guisard,  who  blushes 
at  nothing  provided  he  succeeds;  and  governed  Mon- 
sieur with  a  high  hand  all  his  life,  was  overwhelmed 
with  money  and  benefices,  did  what  he  liked  for  his 
family,  lived  always  publicly  as  the  master  with  Mon- 
sieur; and  as  he  had,  with  the  pride  of  the  Guises, 
their  art  and  cleverness,  he  contrived  to  get  between 
the  King  and  Monsieur,  to  be  dealt  with  gingerly,  if 
not  feared  by  both,  and  was  almost  as  important  a 
man  with  the  one  as  with  the  other.  He  had  the  finest 
apartments  in  the  Palais  Royal  and  Saint  Cloud,  and 
a  pension  of  ten  thousand  crowns.  He  remained  in 
his  apartments  after  the  death  of  Monsieur,  but  would 
not  from  pride  continue  to  receive  the  pension,  which 
from  pride  was  offered  him.  Although  it  would  have 
been  difficult  to  be  more  timid  and  submissive  than  was 
Monsieur  with  the  King — for  he  flattered  both  his 
ministers  and  his  mistresses — he,  nevertheless,  mingled 
with  his  respectful  demeanour  the  demeanour  of  a 
brother,  and  the  free  and  easy  ways  of  one.  In  pri- 
vate, he  was  yet  more  unconstrained;  always  taking 
an  armed  chair,  and  never  waiting  until  the  King  told 
him  to  sit.  In  the  Cabinet,  after  the  King  appeared, 
no  other  Prince  sat  besides  him,  not  even  Monsei- 
gneur.  But  in  what  regarded  his  service,  and  his 
manner  of  approaching  and  leaving  the  King,  no  pri- 
vate person  could  behave  with  more  respect;  and  he 
naturally  did  everything  with  grace  and  dignity.  He 
never,  however,  was  able  to  bend  to  Madame  de 
Maintenon  completely,  nor  avoid  making  small  attacks 
on  her  to  the  King,  nor  avoid  satirising  her  pretty 
broadly  in  person.  It  was  not  her  success  that  an- 
noyed him;  but  simply  the  idea  that  La  Scarron  had 
become  his  sister-in-law;  this  was  insupportable  to 
him.  Monsieur  was  extremely  vain,  but  not  haughty, 
yery  sensitive,  and  a  great  stickler  for  what  was  due 


288  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

to  him.  Upon  one  occasion  he  complained  to  the  King 
that  M.  le  Due  had  for  some  time  neglected  to  attend 
upon  him,  as  he  was  bound,  and  had  boasted  that  he 
would  not  do  it.  The  King  replied,  that  it  was  not  a 
thing  to  be  angry  about,  that  he  ought  to  seek  an 
opportunity  to  be  served  by  M.  le  Due,  and  if  he  would 
not,  to  affront  him.  Accordingly,  one  morning  at 
Marly,  as  he  was  dressing,  seeing  M.  le  Due  walking 
in  the  garden,  Monsieur  opened  the  window  and  called 
to  him.  Monsieur  le  Due  came  up,  and  entered  the 
room.  Then,  while  one  remark  was  leading  to  an- 
other, Monsieur  slipped  off  his  dressing-gown,  and 
then  his  shirt.  A  valet  de  chambre  standing  by,  at 
once  slipped  a  clean  shirt  into  the  hands  of  M.  le 
Due,  who,  caught  thus  in  a  trap,  was  compelled  to 
offer  the  garment  to  Monsieur,  as  it  was  his  duty  to 
do.  As  soon  as  Monsieur  had  received  it,  he  burst  out 
laughing,  and  said — "  Good-bye,  cousin,  go  away.  I 
do  not  want  to  delay  you  longer."  M.  le  Due  felt  the 
point  of  this,  and  went  away  very  angry,  and  con- 
tinued so  in  consequence  of  the  high  tone  Monsieur 
afterwards  kept  up  on  the  subject. 

Monsieur  was  a  little  round-bellied  man,  who  wore 
such  high-heeled  shoes  that  he  seemed  mounted  al- 
ways upon  stilts;  was  always  decked  out  like  a  woman, 
covered  everywhere  with  rings,  bracelets,  jewels;  with 
a  long  black  wig,  powdered,  and  curled  in  front;  with 
ribbons  wherever  he  could  put  them;  steeped  in  per- 
fumes, and  in  fine  a  model  of  cleanliness.  He  was  ac- 
cused of  putting  on  an  imperceptible  touch  of  rouge. 
He  had  a  long  nose,  good  eyes  and  mouth,  a  full  but 
very  long  face.  All  his  portraits  resembled  him.  I 
was  piqued  to  see  that  his  features  recalled  those  of 
Louis  XIII.,  to  whom,  except  in  matters  of  courage, 
he  was  so  completely  dissimilar. 

On  Saturday,  the  nth  of  June,  the  Court  returned  to 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  289 

Versailles.  On  arriving  there  the  King  went  to  visit 
Madame  and  her  son  and  daughter-in-law  separately. 
Madame,  very  much  troubled  by  reflection  on  her 
position  with  regard  to  the  King,  had  sent  the  Du- 
chesse  de  Ventadour  to  Madame  de  Maintenon.  The 
latter  replied  to  the  message  only  in  general  terms; 
said  she  would  visit  Madame  after  dinner,  and  re- 
quested that  the  Duchess  might  be  present  at  the 
interview.  It  was  Sunday,  the  morning  after  the  re- 
turn from  Marly.  After  the  first  compliments,  every 
one  went  out  except  Madame  de  Ventadour.  Then 
Madame  requested  Madame  de  Maintenon  to  sit  down; 
and  she  must  have  felt  her  position  keenly  to  bring  her 
to  this. 

She  began  the  conversation  by  complaining  of  the 
indifference  with  which  the  King  had  treated  her  dur- 
ing her  illness.  Madame  de  Maintenon  allowed  her 
to  talk  on;  and  when  she  had  finished,  said  that  the 
King  had  commanded  her  to  say  that  their  common 
loss  effaced  all  the  past,  provided  that  he  had  reason  to 
be  better  satisfied  for  the  future,  not  only  as  regarded 
M.  le  Due  de  Chartres,  but  other  matters  also.  Upon 
this  Madame  exclaimed  and  protested  that,  except  in 
as  far  as  regarded  her  son,  she  had  never  given  cause 
for  displeasure;  and  went  on  alternating  complaints 
and  justifications.  Precisely  at  the  point  when  she  was 
most  emphatic,  Madame  de  Maintenon  drew  forth  a 
letter  from  her  pocket  and  asked  if  the  handwriting 
was  known  to  her.  It  was  a  letter  from  Madame  to 
the  Duchess  of  Hanover,  in  which  she  said,  after  giv- 
ing news  of  the  Court,  that  no  one  knew  what  to  say 
of  the  intercourse  between  the  King  and  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  whether  it  was  that  of  marriage  or  of 
concubinage;  and  then,  touching  upon  other  matters, 
launched  out  upon  the  misery  of  the  realm:  that,  she 
said,  was  too  great  to  be  relieved.    This  letter  had  been 


290  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

opened  at  the  post — as  almost  all  letters  were  at  that 
time,  and  are  indeed  still — and  sent  to  the  King.  It 
may  be  imagined  that  this  was  a  thunderstroke  to 
Madame:  it  nearly  killed  her.  She  burst  into  tears; 
and  Madame  de  Maintenon  very  quietly  and  demurely 
began  to  represent  to  her  the  contents  of  the  letter  in 
all  its  parts,  especially  as  it  was  addressed  to  a  foreign 
country.  Madame  de  Ventadour  interposed  with 
some  twaddle,  to  give  Madame  time  to  breathe  and 
recover  sufficiently  to  say  something.  The  best  ex- 
cuse was  the  admission  of  what  could  not  be  denied, 
with  supplications  for  pardon,  expressions  of  repent- 
ance, prayers,  promises.  But  Madame  de  Maintenon 
had  not  finished  yet.  Having  got  rid  of  the  commis- 
sion she  had  been  charged  with  by  the  King,  she  next 
turned  to  her  own  business :  she  asked  Madame  how  it 
was,  that  after  being  so  friendly  with  her  a  long  time 
ago,  she  had  suddenly  ceased  to  bestow  any  regard 
upon  her,  and  had  continued  to  treat  her  with  cold- 
ness ever  since.  At  this,  Madame  thinking  herself 
quite  safe,  said  that  the  coldness  was  on  the  part  of 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  who  had  all  on  a  sudden  dis- 
continued the  friendly  intercourse  which  formerly  ex- 
isted between  them.  As  before,  Madame  de  Maintenon 
allowed  Madame  to  talk  her  fill  before  she  replied. 
She  then  said  she  was  about  to  divulge  a  secret  which 
had  never  escaped  her  mouth,  although  she  had  for  ten 
years  been  at  liberty  to  tell  it;  and  she  forthwith  re- 
lated a  thousand  most  offensive  things  which  had  been 
uttered  against  her  by  Madame  to  the  late  Madame  la 
Dauphine.  This  latter,  falling  out  with  Madame,  had 
related  all  these  things  to  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
who  now  brought  them  forward  triumphantly. 

At  this  new  blow,  Madame  was  thunderstruck,  and 
stood  like  a  statue.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to 
behave  as  before — that  is  to  say,  shed  tears,  cry,  ask 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  291 

pardon,  humble  herself,  and  beg  for  mercy.  Madame 
de  Maintenon  triumphed  coldly  over  her  for  a  long 
time, — allowing  her  to  excite  herself  in  talking,  and 
weeping,  and  taking  her  hands,  which  she  did  with 
increasing  energy  and  humility.  This  was  a  terrible 
humiliation  for  such  a  haughty  German.  Madame  de 
Maintenon  at  last  gave  way,  as  she  had  always  meant 
to  do  after  having  satiated  her  vengeance.  They  em- 
braced, promised  forgetfulness  on  both  sides,  and  a 
new  friendship  from  that  time.  The  King,  who  was 
not  ignorant  of  what  had  occurred,  took  back  Madame 
into  favour.  She  went  neither  to  a  convent  nor  to 
Montargis,  but  was  allowed  to  remain  in  Paris,  and 
her  pension  was  augmented.  As  for  M.  le  Due  de 
Chartres,  he  was  prodigiously  well  treated.  The  King 
gave  him  all  the  pensions  Monsieur  had  enjoyed,  be- 
sides allowing  him  to  retain  his  own;  so  that  he  had 
one  million  eight  hundred  thousand  livres  a  year; 
added  to  the  Palais  Royal,  Saint  Cloud,  and  other 
mansions.  He  had  a  Swiss  guard,  which  none  but  the 
sons  of  France  had  ever  had  before;  in  fact  he  retained 
all  the  privileges  his  father  had  enjoyed,  and  he  took 
the  name  of  Due  d'Orleans.  The  pensions  of  Ma- 
dame de  Chartres  were  augmented.  All  these  hon- 
ours so  great  and  so  unheard  of  bestowed  on  M.  de 
Chartres,  and  an  income  of  a  hundred  thousand 
crowns  more  than  his  father,  were  due  solely  to  the 
quarrel  which  had  recently  taken  place  between  Mon- 
sieur and  the  King,  as  to  the  marriage  M.  de  Char- 
tres had  made.  People  accustom  themselves  to  every- 
thing, but  this  prodigious  good  fortune  infinitely 
surprised  everybody.  The  Princes  of  the  blood  were 
extremely  mortified.  To  console  them,  the  King  im- 
mediately gave  to  M.  le  Prince  all  the  advantages  of 
a  first  Prince  of  the  blood,  and  added  ten  thousand 
crowns  to  his  pension. 

Vol.  11  Memoirs — J 


292  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

Madame  wore  deep  mourning  for  forty  days,  after 
which  she  threw  it  almost  entirely  aside,  with  the 
King's  permission.  He  did  not  like  to  see  such  sad- 
looking  things  before  his  eyes  every  day.  Madame 
went  about  in  public,  and  with  the  Court,  in  her  half- 
mourning,  under  pretence  that  being  with  the  King, 
and  living  under  his  roof,  she  was  of  the  family.  But 
her  conduct  was  not  the  less  thought  strange  in  spite 
of  this  excuse.  During  the  winter,  as  the  King  could 
not  well  go  to  the  theatre,  the  theatre  came  to  him,  in 
the  apartments  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  where  com- 
edies with  music  were  played.  The  King  wore  mourn- 
ing for  six  months,  and  paid  all  the  expenses  of  the 
superb  funeral  which  took  place  on  the  13th  of  June. 

While  upon  the  subject  of  Monsieur,  I  will  relate 
an  anecdote  known  to  but  few  people,  concerning  the 
death  of  his  first  wife,  Henriette  d'Angleterre,  whom 
nobody  doubts  was  poisoned.  Her  gallantries  made 
Monsieur  jealous;  and  his  tastes  made  her  furious. 
His  favourites,  whom  she  hated,  did  all  in  their  power 
to  sow  discord  between  them,  in  order  to  dispose  of 
Monsieur  at  their  will.  The  Chevalier  de  Lorraine, 
then  in  the  prime  of  his  first  youth  (having  been  born 
in  1643)  completely  ruled  over  Monsieur,  and  made 
Madame  feel  that  he  had  this  power.  She,  charming 
and  young,  could  not  suffer  this,  and  complained  to 
the  King,  so  that  M.  de  Lorraine  was  exiled.  When 
Monsieur  heard  this,  he  swooned,  then  melted  into 
tears,  and  throwing  himself  at  the  feet  of  the  King, 
implored  him  to  recall  M.  de  Lorraine.  But  his  pray- 
ers were  useless,  and,  rushing  away  in  fury,  he  re- 
tired into  the  country  and  remained  there  until, 
ashamed  of  a  thing  so  publicly  disgraceful,  he  re- 
turned to  Paris  and  lived  with  Madame  as  before. 

Although  M.  de  Lorraine  was  banished,  two  of  his 
intimate  friends,  D'Effiat  and  the  Count  de  Beuvron, 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  293 

remained  in  the  household  of  Monsieur.  The  absence 
of  M.  de  Lorraine  nipped  all  their  hopes  of  success, 
and  made  them  fear  that  some  other  favourite  might 
arrive  from  whom  they  could  hope  for  nothing.  They 
saw  no  chance  that  M.  de  Lorraine's  exile  would 
speedily  terminate;  for  Madame  (Henriette  d'Angle- 
terre)  was  in  greater  favour  with  the  King  than  ever, 
and  had  just  been  sent  by  him  into  England  on  a  mys- 
terious errand  in  which  she  had  perfectly  succeeded. 
She  returned  triumphant  and  very  well  in  health.  This 
gave  the  last  blow  to  the  hopes  of  D'Effiat  and  Beu- 
vron,  as  to  the  return  of  M.  de  Lorraine,  who  had  gone 
to  Italy  to  try  to  get  rid  of  his  vexation.  I  know  not 
which  of  the  three  thought  of  it  first,  but  the  Chevalier 
de  Lorraine  sent  a  sure  and  rapid  poison  to  his  two 
friends  by  a  messenger  who  did  not  probably  know 
what  he  carried. 

At  Saint  Cloud,  Madame  was  in  the  habit  of  taking 
a  glass  of  endive-water,  at  about  seven  o'clock  in  the 
evening.  A  servant  of  hers  used  to  make  it,  and  then 
put  it  away  in  a  cupboard  where  there  was  some  ordi- 
nary water  for  the  use  of  Madame  if  she  found  the 
other  too  bitter.  The  cupboard  was  in  an  ante- 
chamber which  served  as  the  public  passage  by  which 
the  apartments  of  Madame  were  reached.  D'Effiat 
took  notice  of  all  these  things,  and  on  the  29th  of 
June,  1670,  he  went  to  the  ante-chamber;  saw  that 
he  was  unobserved  and  that  nobody  was  near,  and 
threw  the  poison  into  the  endive-water;  then  hearing 
some  one  approaching,  he  seized  the  jug  of  common 
water  and  feigned  to  be  putting  it  back  in  its  place 
just  as  the  servant,  before  alluded  to,  entered  and  asked 
him  sharply  what  he  was  doing  in  that  cupboard. 
D'Effiat,  without  losing  countenance,  asked  his  par- 
don, and  said,  that  being  thirsty,  and  knowing  there 
was  some  water  in  the  cupboard,  he  could  not  resist 


294  DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON 

drinking.  The  servant  grumbled;  and  D'Effiat,  try- 
ing to  appease  him,  entered  the  apartments  of 
Madame,  like  the  other  courtiers,  and  began  talking 
without  the  slightest  emotion. 

What  followed  an  hour  afterwards  does  not  belong 
to  my  subject,  and  has  made  only  too  much  stir 
throughout  all  Europe.  Madame  died  on  the  morrow, 
June  30,  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning;  and  the  King 
was  profoundly  prostrated  with  grief.  Apparently 
during  the  day,  some  indications  showed  him  that 
Purnon,  chief  steward  of  Madame,  was  in  the  secret 
of  her  decease.  Purnon  was  brought  before  him  pri- 
vately, and  was  threatened  with  instant  death,  unless 
he  disclosed  all;  full  pardon  being  on  the  contrary 
promised  him  if  he  did.  Purnon,  thus  pressed,  ad- 
mitted that  Madame  had  been  poisoned,  and  under  the 
circumstance  I  have  just  related.  "  And  my  brother," 
said  the  King,  "  did  he  know  of  this  ? ':  "  No,  Sire, 
not  one  of  us  was  stupid  enough  to  tell  him;  he  has  no 
secrecy,  he  would  have  betrayed  us."  On  hearing  this 
answer  the  King  uttered  a  great  "  ah !  "  like  a  man 
oppressed,  who  suddenly  breathes  again. 

Purnon  was  immediately  set  at  liberty;  and  years 
afterwards  related  this  narrative  to  M.  Joly  de  Fleury, 
procureur-general  of  the  Parliament,  by  which  magis- 
trate it  was  related  to  me.  From  this  same  magistrate 
I  learned  that,  a  few  days  before  the  second  marriage 
of  Monsieur,  the  King  took  Madame  aside  and  told 
her  that  circumstance,  assuring  her  that  he  was  too 
honest  a  man  to  wish  her  to  marry  his  brother,  if  that 
brother  could  be  capable  of  such  a  crime.  Madame 
profited  by  what  she  heard.  Purnon  remained  in  her 
service;  but  after  a  time  she  pretended  to  find  faults 
in  him,  and  made  him  resign;  he  sold  his  post  accord- 
ingly, towards  the  end  of  1674,  to  Maurel  de  Vau- 
lonne,  and  quitted  her  service. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

A  T  the  breaking  out  of  the  war  in  Italy  this  year 
u\  Segur  bought  the  government  of  the  Foix 
«*-  -^  country  from  Tallard,  one  of  the  generals  called 
away  to  serve  in  that  war.  Segur  had  been  in  his 
youth  a  very  handsome  fellow;  he  was  at  that  time  in 
the  Black  Musketeers,  and  this  company  was  always 
quartered  at  Nemours  while  the  Court  was  at  Fon- 
tainebleau.  Segur  played  very  well  upon  the  lute;  but 
found  life  dull,  nevertheless,  at  Nemours,  made  the 
acquaintance  of  the  Abbesse  de  la  Joye,  a  place  hard 
by,  and  charmed  her  ears  and  eyes  so  much  that  she 
became  with  child  by  him.  After  some  months  the 
Abbess  pleaded  illness,  left  the  convent,  and  set  out 
for  the  waters,  as  she  said.  Putting  off  her  journey 
too  long,  she  was  obliged  to  stop  a  night  at  Fon- 
tainebleau;  and  in  consequence  of  the  Court  being 
there,  could  find  no  accommodation,  except  in  a 
wretched  little  inn  already  full  of  company.  She  had 
delayed  so  long  that  the  pangs  of  labour  seized  her  in 
the  night,  and  the  cries  she  uttered  brought  all  the 
house  to  her  assistance.  She  was  delivered  of  a  child 
then  and  there ;  and  the  next  morning  this  fact  was  the 
talk  of  the  town. 

The  Due  de  Saint  Aignan,  one  of  the  first  of  the 
courtiers  who  learned  it,  went  straight  to  the  King, 
who  was  brisk  and  free  enough  in  those  days,  and  re- 
lated to  him  what  had  occurred;  the  King  laughed 
heartily  at  the  poor  Abbess,  who,  while  trying  to  hide 
her  shame,  had  come  into  the  very  midst  of  the  Court. 
Nobody   knew   then   that   her   abbey   was  only    four 

295 


'295  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

leagues  distant,  but  everybody  learned  it  soon,  and 
the  Due  de  Saint  Aignan  among  the  first. 

When  he  returned  to  his  house,  he  found  long  faces 
on  every  side.  His  servants  made  signs  one  to  an- 
other, but  nobody  said  a  word.  He  perceived  this,  and 
asked  what  was  the  matter ;  but,  for  some  time,  no  one 
dared  to  reply.  At  last  a  valet-de-chambre  grew  bold 
enough  to  say  to  Saint  Aignan,  that  the  Abbess,  whose 
adventure  had  afforded  so  much  mirth,  was  his  own 
daughter;  and  that,  after  he  had  gone  to  the  King,  she 
had  sent  for  assistance,  in  order  to  get  out  of  the  place 
where  she  was  staying. 

It  was  now  the  Duke's  turn  to  be  confused.  After 
having  made  the  King  and  all  the  Court  laugh  at  this 
adventure,  he  became  himself  the  laughing-stock  of 
everybody.  He  bore  the  affair  as  well  as  he  could; 
carried  away  the  Abbess  and  her  baggage;  and,  as  the 
scandal  was  public,  made  her  send  in  her  resignation 
and  hide  herself  in  another  convent,  where  she  lived 
more  than  forty  years. 

That  worthy  man,  Saint-Herem,  died  this  year  at 
his  house  in  Auvergne,  to  which  he  had  retired. 
Everybody  liked  him;  and  M.  de  Rochefoucauld  had 
reproached  the  King  for  not  making  him  Chevalier  of 
the  Order.  The  King  had  confounded  him  with 
Courtine,  his  brother-in-law,  for  they  had  married  two 
sisters;  but  when  put  right  had  not  given  the  favour. 

Madame  de  Saint-Herem  was  the  most  singular 
creature  in  the  world,  not  only  in  face  but  in  manners. 
She  half  boiled  her  thigh  one  day  in  the  Seine,  near 
Fontainebleau,  where  she  was  bathing.  The  river  was 
too  cold;  she  wished  to  warm  it,  and  had  a  quantity  of 
water  heated  and  thrown  into  the  stream  just  above 
her.  The  water  reaching  her  before  it  could  grow 
cold,  scalded  her  so  much  that  she  was  forced  to  keep 
her  bed. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  297 

When  it  thundered,  she  used  to  squat  herself  under 
a  couch  and  make  all  her  servants  lie  above,  one  upon 
the  other,  so  that  if  the  thunderbolt  fell,  it  might  have 
its  effect  upon  them  before  penetrating  to  her.  She 
had  ruined  herself  and  her  husband,  though  they  were 
rich,  through  sheer  imbecility;  and  it  is  incredible  the 
amount  of  money  she  spent  in  her  absurdities. 

The  best  adventure  which  happened  to  her,  among 
a  thousand  others,  was  at  her  house  in  the  Place  Roy- 
ale,  where  she  was  one  day  attacked  by  a  madman, 
who,  finding  her  alone  in  her  chamber,  was  very  en- 
terprising. The  good  lady,  hideous  at  eighteen,  but 
who  was  at  this  time  eighty  and  a  widow,  cried  aloud 
as  well  as  she  could.  Her  servants  heard  her  at  last, 
ran  to  her  assistance,  and  found  her  all  disordered, 
struggling  in  the  hands  of  this  raging  madman.  The 
man  was  found  to  be  really  out  of  his  senses  when 
brought  before  the  tribunal,  and  the  story  amused 
everybody. 

The  health  of  the  King  of  England  (James  II.), 
which  had  for  some  time  been  very  languishing,  grew 
weaker  towards  the  middle  of  August  of  this  year,  and 
by  the  8th  of  September  completely  gave  way.  There 
was  no  longer  any  hope.  The  King,  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  and  all  the  royal  persons,  visited  him 
often.  He  received  the  last  sacrament  with  a  piety  in 
keeping  with  his  past  life,  and  his  death  was  expected 
every  instant.  In  this  conjuncture  the  King  made  a 
resolve  more  worthy  of  Louis  XII.,  or  Francis  I., 
than  of  his  own  wisdom.  On  Tuesday,  the  13th  of 
September,  he  went  from  Marly  to  Saint  Germain. 
The  King  of  England  was  so  ill  that  when  the  King 
was  announced  to  him  he  scarcely  opened  his  eyes  for 
an  instant.  The  King  told  him  that  he  might  die  in 
peace  respecting  the  Prince  of  Wales,  whom  he  would 
recognise  as  King  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland. 


298  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

The  few  English  who  were  there  threw  themselves 
upon  their  knees,  but  the  King  of  England  gave  no 
signs  of  life.  The  gratitude  of  the  Prince  of  Wales 
and  of  his  mother,  when  they  heard  what  the  King 
had  said,  may  be  imagined.  Returned  to  Marly,  the 
King  repeated  to  all  the  Court  what  he  had  said. 
Nothing  was  heard  but  praises  and  applause. 

Yet  reflections  did  not  fail  to  be  made  promptly,  if 
not  publicly.  It  was  seen,  that  to  recognise  the  Prince 
of  Wales  was  to  act  in  direct  opposition  to  the  recog- 
nition of  the  Prince  of  Orange  as  King  of  England, 
that  the  King  had  declared  at  the  Peace  of  Ryswick. 
It  was  to  wound  the  Prince  of  Orange  in  the  tenderest 
point,  and  to  invite  England  and  Holland  to  become 
allies  of  the  Emperor  against  France.  As  for  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  this  recognition  was  no  solid  ad- 
vantage to  him,  but  was  calculated  to  make  the  party 
opposed  to  him  in  England  only  more  bitter  and  vigi- 
lant in  their  opposition. 

The  King  of  England,  in  the  few  intervals  of  intel- 
ligence he  had,  appeared  much  impressed  by  what  the 
King  had  done.  He  died  about  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  of  the  16th  September  of  this  year,  1701. 
He  had  requested  that  there  might  be  no  display  at  his 
funeral,  and  his  wish  was  faithfully  observed.  He 
was  buried  on  the  Saturday,  at  seven  o'clock  in  the 
evening,  in  the  church  of  the  English  Benedictines  at 
Paris,  Rue  St.  Jacques,  without  pomp,  and  attended 
by  but  few  mourners.  His  body  rests  in  the  chapel, 
like  that  of  the  simplest  private  person,  until  the  time, 
apparently  very  distant,  when  it  shall  be  transported  to 
England.  His  heart  is  at  the  Filles  de  Sainte  Marie, 
of  Chaillot. 

Immediately  afterwards,  the  Prince  of  Wales  was 
received  by  the  King  as  King  of  England,  with  all  the 
formalities  and  state  with  which  his  father  before  him 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  299 

had  been  received.  Soon  afterwards  he  was  recognised 
by  the  new  King  of  Spain. 

The  Count  of  Manchester,  English  ambassador  in 
France,  ceased  to  appear  at  Versailles  after  this  recog- 
nition of  the  Prince  of  Wales  by  the  King,  and  imme- 
diately quitted  his  post  and  left  the  country  without 
any  leave-taking.  King  William  heard,  while  in  Hol- 
land, of  the  death  of  James  II.  and  of  this  recogni- 
tion. He  was  at  table  with  some  German  princes  and 
other  lords  when  the  news  arrived;  did  not  utter  a 
word,  except  to  announce  the  death;  but  blushed, 
pulled  down  his  hat,  and  could  not  keep  his  counte- 
nance. He  sent  orders  to  London,  to  drive  out  Pous- 
sin,  acting  as  French  ambassador,  immediately;  and 
Poussin  directly  crossed  the  sea  and  arrived  at  Calais. 

This  event  was  itself  followed  by  the  signing  of  the 
great  treaty  of  alliance,  offensive  and  defensive, 
against  France  and  Spain,  by  Austria,  England,  and 
Holland;  in  which  they  afterwards  succeeded  in  en- 
gaging other  powers,  which  compelled  the  King  to 
increase  the  number  of  his  troops. 

Just  after  the  return  of  the  Court  from  Fontaine- 
bleau,  a  strange  scene  happened  at  St.  Maur,  in  a  pretty 
house  there  which  M.  le  Due  possessed.  He  was  at 
this  house  one  night  with  five  or  six  intimate  friends, 
whom  he  had  invited  to  pass  the  night  there.  One  of 
these  friends  was  the  Comte  de  Fiesque.  At  table,  and 
before  the  wine  had  begun  to  circulate,  a  dispute  upon 
some  historical  point  arose  between  him  and  M.  le  Due. 
The  Comte  de  Fiesque,  who  had  some  intellect  and 
learning,  strongly  sustained  his  opinion.  M.  le  Due 
sustained  his;  and  for  want  of  better  reasons,  threw  a 
plate  at  the  head  of  Fiesque,  drove  him  from  the  table 
and  out  of  the  house.  So  sudden  and  strange  a  scene 
frightened  the  guests.  The  Comte  de  Fiesque,  who 
had  gone  to  M.  le  Due's  house  with  the  intention  of 


goo  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

passing  the  night  there,  had  not  retained  a  carriage, 
went  to  ask  shelter  of  the  cure,  and  got  back  to  Paris 
the  next  day  as  early  in  the  morning  as  he  could.  It 
may  be  imagined  that  the  rest  of  the  supper  and  of 
the  evening  was  terribly  dull.  M.  le  Due  remained 
fuming  (perhaps  against  himself,  but  without  saying 
so),  and  could  not  be  induced  to  apologise  for  the  af- 
front. It  made  a  great  stir  in  society,  and  things  re- 
mained thus  several  months.  After  a  while,  friends 
mixed  themselves  in  the  matter;  M.  le  Due,  completely 
himself  again,  made  all  the  advances  towards  a  recon- 
ciliation. The  Comte  de  Fiesque  received  them,  and 
the  reconciliation  took  place.  The  most  surprising 
thing  is,  that  after  this  they  continued  on  as  good 
terms  as  though  nothing  had  passed  between  them. 

The  year  1702  commenced  with  balls  at  Versailles, 
many  of  which  were  masquerades.  Madame  du  Maine 
gave  several  in  her  chamber,  always  keeping  her  bed 
because  she  was  in  the  family-way ;  which  made  rather 
a  singular  spectacle.  There  were  several  balls  at 
Marly,  but  the  majority  were  not  masquerades.  The 
King  often  witnessed,  but  in  strict  privacy,  and  always 
in  the  apartments  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  sacred 
dramas  such  as  "  Absalon,"  "  Athalie,"  &c.  Madame 
la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  M.  le  Due  d'Orleans,  the 
Comte  and  Comtesse  d'Anjou,  the  young  Comte  de 
Noailles,  Mademoiselle  de  Melun,  urged  by  the  No- 
ailles,  played  the  principal  characters  in  very  magnifi- 
cent stage  dresses.  Baron,  the  excellent  old  actor,  in- 
structed them  and  played  with  them.  M.  de  Noailles 
and  his  clever  wife  were  the  inventors  and  promoters 
of  these  interior  pleasures,  for  the  purpose  of  in- 
truding themselves  more  and  more  into  the  society 
of  the  King,  in  support  of  the  alliance  of  Madame  de 
Maintenon. 

Only  forty  spectators  were  admitted  to  the  repre- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  301 

sentations.  Madame  was  sometimes  invited  by  the 
King,  because  she  liked  plays.  This  favour  was  much 
sought  after.  Madame  de  Maintenon  wished  to  show 
that  she  had  forgotten  the  past. 

Longepierre  had  written  a  very  singular  piece  called 
"  Electra,"  which  was  played  on  a  magnificent  stage 
erected  in  Madame  de  Conti's  house,  and  all  the  Court 
flocked  several  times  to  see  it.  This  piece  was  with- 
out love,  but  full  of  other  passions  and  of  most  inter- 
esting situations.  I  think  it  had  been  written  in  the 
hopes  that  the  King  would  go  and  see  it.  But  he  con- 
tented himself  with  hearing  it  talked  about,  and  the 
representation  was  confined  to  the  Hotel  de  Conti. 
Longepierre  would  not  allow  it  to  be  given  elsewhere. 
He  was  an  intriguing  fellow  of  much  wit,  gentle,  in- 
sinuating, and  who,  under  a  tranquillity  and  indiffer- 
ence and  a  very  deceitful  philosophy,  thrust  himself 
everywhere,  and  meddled  with  everything  in  order  to 
make  his  fortune.  He  succeeded  in  intruding  himself 
into  favour  with  the  Due  d'Orleans,  but  behaved  so 
badly  that  he  was  driven  away. 

The  death  of  the  Abbe  de  Vatteville  occurred  at  the 
commencement  of  this  year,  and  made  some  noise,  on 
account  of  the  prodigies  of  the  Abbe's  life.  This 
Vatteville  was  the  younger  son  of  a  Franche-Comte 
family;  early  in  life  he  joined  the  Order  of  the  Char- 
treux  monks,  and  was  ordained  priest.  He  had  much 
intellect,  but  was  of  an  impetuous  spirit,  and  soon  be- 
gan to  chafe  under  the  yoke  of  a  religious  life.  He 
determined,  therefore,  to  set  himself  free  from  it,  and 
procured  some  secular  habits,  pistols,  and  a  horse.  Just 
as  he  was  about  to  escape  over  the  walls  of  the  mon- 
astery by  means  of  a  ladder,  the  prior  entered  his  cell. 
Vatteville  made  no  to-do,  but  at  once  drew  a  pistol, 
shot  the  prior  dead,  and  effected  his  escape. 

Two  or  three  days  afterwards,  travelling  over  the 


302  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

country  and  avoiding  as  much  as  possible  the  fre- 
quented places,  he  arrived  at  a  wretched  road-side  inn, 
and  asked  what  there  was  in  the  house.  The  landlord 
replied — "  A  leg  of  mutton  and  a  capon."  "  Good!  " 
replied  our  unfrocked  monk;  "  put  them  down  to 
roast." 

The  landlord  replied  that  they  were  too  much  for  a 
single  person,  and  that  he  had  nothing  else  for  the 
whole  house.    The  monk  upon  this  flew  into  a  passion, 
and  declared  that  the  least  the  landlord  could  do  was 
to  give  him  what  he  would  pay  for;  and  that  he  had 
sufficient  appetite  to  eat  both  leg  of  mutton  and  capon. 
They  were  accordingly  put  down  to  the  fire,  the  land- 
lord not  daring  to  say  another  word.    While  they  were 
cooking,  a  traveller  on  horseback  arrived  at  the  inn, 
and  learning  that  they  were  for  one  person,  was  much 
astonished.    He  offered  to  pay  his  share  to  be  allowed 
to  dine  off  them  with  the  stranger  who  had  ordered 
this  dinner;  but  the  landlord  told  him  he  was  afraid 
the  gentleman  would  not  consent  to  the  arrangement. 
Thereupon  the  traveller  went  upstairs,  and  civilly  asked 
Vatteville  if  he  might  dine  with  him  on  paying  half  of 
the  expense.    Vatteville  would  not  consent,  and  a  dis- 
pute soon  arose  between  the  two;  to  be  brief,  the  monk 
served  this  traveller  as  he  had  served  the  prior,  killed 
him  with  a  pistol  shot.    After  this  he  went  downstairs 
tranquilly,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  fright  of  the  land- 
lord and  of  the  whole  house,  had  the  leg  of  mutton 
and  capon  served  up  to  him,  picked  both  to  the  very 
bone,  paid  his  score,  remounted  his  horse,  and  went 

his  way. 

Not  knowing  what  course  to  take,  he  went  to  Tur- 
key, and  in  order  to  succeed  there,  had  himself  circum- 
cised, put  on  the  turban,  and  entered  into  the  militia. 
His  blasphemy  advanced  him,  his  talents  and  his  col- 
our distinguished  him;  he  became  Bacha,  and  the  con- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  303 

fidential  man  in  the  Morea,  where  the  Turks  were 
making  war  against  the  Venetians.  He  determined  to 
make  use  of  this  position  in  order  to  advance  his  own 
interests,  and  entering  into  communication  with  the 
generalissimo  of  the  Republic,  promised  to  betray  into 
his  hands  several  secret  places  belonging  to  the  Turks, 
but  on  certain  conditions.  These  were,  absolution  from 
the  Pope  for  all  crimes  of  his  life,  his  murders  and 
his  apostasy  included;  security  against  the  Chartreux 
and  against  being  placed  in  any  other  Order;  full  resti- 
tution of  his  civil  rights,  and  liberty  to  exercise  his 
profession  of  priest  with  the  right  of  possessing  all 
benefices  of  every  kind.  The  Venetians  thought  the 
bargain  too  good  to  be  refused,  and  the  Pope,  in  the 
interest  of  the  Church,  accorded  all  the  demands  of  the 
Bacha.  When  Vatteville  was  quite  assured  that  his 
conditions  would  be  complied  with,  he  took  his  meas- 
ures so  well  that  he  executed  perfectly  all  he  had  un- 
dertaken. Immediately  after  he  threw  himself  into 
the  Venetian  army,  and  passed  into  Ialy.  He  was  well 
received  at  Rome  by  the  Pope,  and  returned  to  his 
family  in  Franche-Comte,  and  amused  himself  by 
braving  the  Chartreux. 

At  the  first  conquest  of  the  Franche-Comte,  he  in- 
trigued so  well  with  the  Queen-mother  and  the  minis- 
try, that  he  was  promised  the  Archbishopric  of  Besan- 
gon;  but  the  Pope  cried  out  against  this  on  account  of 
his  murders,  circumcision,  and  apostasy.  The  King 
sided  with  the  Pope,  and  Vatteville  was  obliged  to  be 
contented  with  the  abbey  of  Baume,  another  good 
abbey  in  Picardy,  and  divers  other  advantages. 

Except  when  he  came  to  the  Court,  where  he  was 
always  received  with  great  distinction,  he  remained  at 
his  abbey  of  Baume,  living  there  like  a  grand  seigneur, 
keeping  a  fine  pack  of  hounds,  a  good  table,  entertain- 
ing jovial  company,  keeping  mistresses  very   freely; 


304  DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON 

tyrannising  over  his  tenants  and  his  neighbours  in  the 
most  absolute  manner.  The  intendants  gave  way  to 
him,  and  by  express  orders  of  the  Court  allowed  him 
to  act  much  as  he  pleased,  even  with  the  taxes,  which 
he  regulated  at  his  will,  and  in  his  conduct  was  often- 
times very  violent.  With  these  manners  and  this  bear- 
ing, which  caused  him  to  be  both  feared  and  respected, 
he  would  often  amuse  himself  by  going  to  see  the 
Chartreux,  in  order  to  plume  himself  on  having  quitted 
their  frock.  He  played  much  at  hombre,  and  fre- 
quently gained  codillc  (a  term  of  the  game), 'so  that 
the  name  of  the  Abbe  Codille  was  given  to  him.  He 
lived  in  this  manner  always  with  the  same  licence  and 
in  the  same  consideration,  until  nearly  ninety  years 
of  age. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  changes  which  took  place  in  the  army  after 
the  Peace  of  Ryswick,  were  very  great  and 
very  strange.  The  excellence  of  the  regiments, 
the  merits  of  the  officers,  those  who  commanded,  all 
were  forgotten  by  Barbezieux,  young  and  impetuous, 
whom  the  King  allowed  to  act  as  he  liked.  My  regi- 
ment was  disbanded,  and  my  company  was  incor- 
porated with  that  of  Count  d'Uzes,  brother-in-law  of 
Duras,  who  looked  well  after  the  interests  of  his  rela- 
tive. I  was  thus  deprived  of  command,  without  regi- 
ment, without  company,  and  the  only  opportunity  of- 
fered me  was  to  serve  in  a  regiment  commanded  by 
Saint  Morris,  where  I  should  have  been,  as  it  were, 
at  the  lowest  step  of  the  ladder,  with  my  whole  mili- 
tary career  to  begin  over  again. 

I  had  served  at  the  head  of  my  regiment  during  four 
campaigns,  with  applause  and  reputation,  I  am  bold 
enough  to  say  it.  I  thought  therefore  I  was  entitled 
to  better  treatment  than  this.  Promotions  were  made; 
five  officers,  all  my  juniors,  were  placed  over  my  head. 
I  resolved  then  to  leave  the  service,  but  not  to  take  a 
rash  step.  I  consulted  first  with  several  friends  before 
sending  in  my  resignation.  All  whom  I  consulted 
advised  me  to  quit  the  service,  but  for  a  long  time  I 
could  not  resolve  to  do  so.  Nearly  three  months 
passed,  during  which  I  suffered  cruel  anguish  of  mind 
from  my  irresolution.  I  knew  that  if  I  left  the  army- 
I  should  be  certain  to  incur  the  anger  of  the  King,  and 
I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  this  was  not  a  matter  of 
indifference  to  me.     The  King  was  always  annoyed 


'306  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

when  anybody  ceased  to  serve;  he  called  it  "quitting 
him;"  and  made  his  anger  felt  for  a  long  time.  At 
last,  however,  I  determined  on  my  course  of  action. 

I  wrote  a  short  letter  to  the  King,  in  which,  with- 
out making  any  complaints,  I  said  that  as  my  health 
was  not  good  (it  had  given  me  some  trouble  on  differ- 
ent occasions)  I  begged  to  be  allowed  to  quit  his  serv- 
ice, and  said  that  I  hoped  I  should  be  permitted  to 
console  myself  for  leaving  the  army  by  assiduously 
attending  upon  him  at  the  Court.  After  despatching 
this  letter  I  went  away  immediately  to  Paris. 

I  learnt  afterwards  from  my  friends,  that  upon  re- 
ceiving my  letter  the  King  called  Chamillart  to  him, 
and  said  with  emotion :  "  Well !  Monsieur,  here  is 
another  man  who  quits  us !  "  and  he  read  my  letter 
word  for  word.  I  did  not  learn  that  anything  else 
escaped  him. 

As  for  me,  I  did  not  return  to  Versailles  for  a  whole 
week,  or  see  the  King  again  until  Easter  Monday. 
After  his  supper  that  evening,  and  when  about  to 
undress  himself,  he  paid  me  a  distinction, — a  mere 
trifle  I  admit,  and  which  I  should  be  ashamed  to  men- 
tion if  it  did  not  under  the  circumstances  serve  as  a 
characteristic  of  him. 

Although  the  place  he  undressed  in  was  very  well 
illuminated,  the  chaplain  at  the  evening  prayers  there 
held  in  his  hand  a  lighted  candle,  which  he  gave  after- 
wards to  the  chief  valet-de-chambre,  who  carried  it 
before  the  King  until  he  reached  his  arm-chair,  and 
then  handed  it  to  whomever  the  King  ordered  him  to 
give  it  to.  On  this  evening  the  King,  glancing  all 
around  him,  cast  his  eye  upon  me,  and  told  the  valet 
to  give  the  candle  to  me.  It  was  an  honour  which  he 
bestowed  sometimes  upon  one,  sometimes  upon  an- 
other, according  to  his  whim,  but  which,  by  his  man- 
ner of  bestowing  it,  was  always  coveted,  as  a  great 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  307 

distinction.  My  surprise  may  be  imagined  when  I 
heard  myself  named  aloud  for  this  office,  not  only  on 
this  but  on  many  other  occasions.  It  was  not  that 
there  was  any  lack  of  people  of  consideration  to  hold 
the  candle ;  but  the  King  was  sufficiently  piqued  by  my 
retirement  not  to  wish  everybody  to  see  that  he  was  so. 

For  three  years  he  failed  not  to  make  me  feel  to 
what  extent  he  was  angry  with  me.  He  spoke  to  me 
no  longer;  he  scarcely  bestowed  a  glance  upon  me,  and 
never  once  alluded  to  my  letter.  To  show  that  his 
annoyance  did  not  extend  to  my  wife,  but  that  it  was 
solely  and  wholly  directed  against  me,  he  bestowed, 
about  eight  months  after,  several  marks  of  favour  upon 
Madame  de  Saint-Simon.  She  was  continually  in- 
vited to  the  suppers  at  Trianon — an  honour  which  had 
never  before  been  granted  her.  I  only  laughed  at  this. 
Madame  de  Saint-Simon  was  not  invited  to  Marly, 
because  the  husbands  always,  by  right,  accompanied 
their  wives  there,  apartments  being  given  for  both. 
At  Trianon  it  was  different.  Nobody  was  allowed  to 
sleep  there  except  those  absolutely  in  attendance. 
The  King  wished,  therefore,  the  better  to  mark  by  this 
distinction  that  the  exclusion  was  intended  for  me 
alone,  and  that  my  wife  had  no  part  in  it. 

Notwithstanding  this,  I  persevered  in  my  ordinary 
assiduity,  without  ever  asking  to  be  invited  to  Marly, 
and  lived  agreeably  with  my  wife  and  my  friends.  I 
have  thought  it  best  to  finish  with  this  subject  at 
once — now  I  must  go  back  to  my  starting  point. 

At  the  commencement  of  this  year  (1702)  it  seemed 
as  though  the  flatterers  of  the  King  foresaw  that  the 
prosperity  of  his  reign  was  at  an  end,  and  that  hence- 
forth they  would  only  have  to  praise  him  for  his  con- 
stancy. The  great  number  of  medals  that  had  been 
struck  on  all  occasions — the  most  ordinary  not  having 
been  forgotten — were   collected,    engraved,    and   des- 


308  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

tined  for  a  medallic  history.  The  Abbes  Tallemant, 
Toureil,  and  Dacier,  three  learned  members  of  the 
Academy,  were  charged  with  the  explanation  to  be 
placed  opposite  each  of  these  medals,  in  a  large  volume 
of  the  most  magnificent  impression  of  the  Louvre.  As 
the  history  commenced  at  the  death  of  Louis  XIIL, 
his  medal  was  placed  at  the  head  of  the  book,  and  thus 
it  became  necessary  to  say  something  of  him  in  the 
preface. 

As  it  was  known  that  I  had  a  correct  knowledge  of 
Louis  XIIL,  I  was  asked  to  write  that  portion  of  the 
preface  which  related  to  him.  I  consented  to  this,  but 
on  condition  that  I  should  be  spared  the  ridicule  of  it 
in  society,  and  that  the  matter  should  be  faithfully  kept 
secret.  I  wrote  my  theme  then,  which  cost  me  little 
more  than  a  morning,  being  of  small  extent.  I  had 
the  fate  of  authors :  my  writing  was  praised,  and  ap- 
peared to  answer  all  expectations.  I  congratulated 
myself,  delighted  at  having  devoted  two  or  three  hours 
to  a  grateful  duty — for  so  I  considered  it. 

But  when  my  essay  was  examined,  the  three  gentle- 
men above-named  were  affrighted.  There  are  truths 
the  unstudied  simplicity  of  which  emits  a  lustre  which 
obscures  all  the  results  of  an  eloquence  which  ex- 
aggerates or  extenuates;  Louis  XIIL  furnished  such 
proofs  in  abundance.  I  had  contented  myself  by  show- 
ing them  forth;  but  this  picture  tarnished  those  which 
followed — so  at  least  it  appeared  to  those  who  had 
gilded  the  latter.  They  applied  themselves,  therefore, 
to  cut  out,  or  weaken,  everything  that  might,  by  com- 
parison, obscure  their  hero.  But  as  they  found  at  last 
that  it  was  not  me  they  had  to  correct,  but  the  thing 
itself,  they  gave  up  the  task  altogether,  threw  aside 
my  writing,  and  printed  the  history  without  any  notice 
whatever  of  Louis  XIIL  under  his  portrait — except  to 
note  that  his  death  caused  his  son  to  ascend  the  throne. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  309 

Reflections  upon  this  kind  of  iniquity  would  carry  me 
too  far. 

In  the  early  part  of  this  year  (1702),  King  William 
(of  England),  worn  out  before  his  time  with  labours 
and  business,  in  which  he  had  been  engaged  all  his  life, 
and  which  he  had  carried  on  with  a  capacity,  an  ad- 
dress, a  superiority  of  genius  that  acquired  for  him 
supreme  authority  in  Holland,  the  crown  of  England, 
the  confidence,  and,  to  speak  the  truth,  the  complete 
dictatorship  of  all  Europe — except  France; — King 
William,  I  say,  had  fallen  into  a  wasting  of  strength 
and  of  health  which,  without  attacking  or  diminishing 
his  intellect,  or  causing  him  to  relax  the  infinite 
labours  of  his  cabinet,  was  accompanied  by  a  deficiency 
of  breath,  which  aggravated  the  asthma  he  had  had  for 
several  years.  He  felt  his  condition,  and  his  powerful 
genius  did  not  disavow  it.  Under  forged  names  he 
consulted  the  most  eminent  physicians  of  Europe, 
among  others,  Fagon;  who,  having  to  do,  as  he 
thought,  with  a  aire,  replied  in  all  sincerity,  and  with- 
out dissimulation,  that  he  must  prepare  for  a  speedy 
death.  His  illness  increasing,  William  consulted  Fa- 
gon, anew,  but  this  time  openly.  The  physician  rec- 
ognised the  malady  of  the  cure — he  did  not  change 
his  opinion,  but  expressed  it  in  a  less  decided  manner, 
and  prescribed  with  much  feeling  the  remedies  most 
likely  if  not  to  cure,  at  least  to  prolong.  These  reme- 
dies were  followed  and  gave  relief;  but  at  last  the 
time  had  arrived  when  William  was  to  feel  that 
the  greatest  men  finish  like  the  humblest — and  to 
see  the  nothingness  of  what  the  world  calls  great 
destinies. 

He  rode  out  as  often  as  he  could;  but  no  longer 
having  the  strength  to  hold  himself  on  horseback,  re- 
ceived a  fall,  which  hastened  his  end  by  the  shock  it 
gave  him.    He  occupied  himself  with  religion  as  little 


310  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

as  he  had  all  his  life.  He  ordered  everything,  and 
spoke  to  his  ministers  and  his  familiars  with  a  surpris- 
ing tranquillity,  which  did  not  abandon  him  until  the 
last  moment.  Although  crushed  with  pain,  he  had 
the  satisfaction  of  thinking  that  he  had  consummated 
a  great  alliance,  which  would  last  after  his  death,  and 
that  it  would  strike  the  great  blow  against  France, 
which  he  had  projected.  This  thought,  which  flat- 
tered him  even  in  the  hour  of  death,  stood  in  place  of 
all  other  consolation, — a  consolation  frivolous  and  cru- 
elly deceitful,  which  left  him  soon  the  prey  to  eternal 
truths!  For  two  days  he  was  sustained  by  strong 
waters  and  spirituous  liquors.  His  last  nourishment 
was  a  cup  of  chocolate.  He  died  the  19th  March, 
1702,  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

The  Princess  Anne,  his  sister-in-law,  wife  of  Prince 
George  of  Denmark,  was  at  the  same  time  proclaimed 
queen.  A  few  days  after,  she  declared  her  husband 
Grand  Admiral  and  Commander-in-Chief  (generalis- 
simo), recalled  the  Earl  of  Rochester,  her  maternal 
uncle,  and  the  Earl  of  Sunderland,  and  sent  the 
Count  of  Marlborough,  afterwards  so  well  known,  to 
Holland  to  follow  out  there  all  the  plans  of  his 
predecessor. 

The  King  did  not  learn  this  death  until  the  Satur- 
day morning  following,  by  a  courier  from  Calais.  A 
boat  had  escaped,  in  spite  of  the  vigilance  which  had 
closed  the  ports.  The  King  was  silent  upon  the  news, 
except  to  Monseigneur  and  to  Madame  de  Maintenon. 
On  the  next  day  confirmation  of  the  intelligence  ar- 
rived from  all  parts.  The  King  no  longer  made  a 
secret  of  it,  but  spoke  little  on  the  subject,  and  affected 
much  indifference  respecting  it.  With  the  recollection 
of  all  the  indecent  follies  committed  in  Paris  during 
the  last  war,  when  it  was  believed  that  William  had 
been  killed  at  the  battle  of  the  Boyne  in  Ireland,  the 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  311 

necessary  precautions  against  falling  into  the  same 
error  were  taken  by  the  King's  orders. 

The  King  simply  declared  that  he  would  not  wear 
mourning,  and  prohibited  the  Due  de  Bouillon,  the 
Marechal  de  Duras  and  the  Marechal  de  Lorges,  who 
were  all  related  to  William,  from  doing  so — an  act 
probably  without  example.  Nearly  all  England  and 
the  United  Provinces  mourned  the  loss  of  William. 
Some  good  republicans  alone  breathed  again  with  joy 
in  secret,  at  having  recovered  their  liberty.  The  grand 
alliance  was  very  sensibly  touched  by  this  loss,  but 
found  itself  so  well  cemented,  that  the  spirit  of  Will- 
iam continued  to  animate  it;  and  Heinsius,  his  confi- 
dant, perpetuated  it,  and  inspired  all  the  chiefs  of  the 
republic,  their  allies  and  their  generals,  with  it,  so 
that  it  scarcely  appeared  that  William  was  no  more. 

I  have  related,  in  its  proper  place,  all  that  happened 
to  Catinat  in  Italy,  when  the  schemes  of  Tesse  and  M. 
de  Vaudemont  caused  him  to  be  dismissed  from  the 
command  of  the  army.  After  the  signing  of  the  alli- 
ance against  France  by  the  Emperor,  England,  and 
Holland,  the  war  took  a  more  extended  field.  It  be- 
came necessary  to  send  an  army  to  the  Rhine.  There 
was  nothing  for  it  but  to  have  recourse  to  Catinat. 

Since  his  return  from  Italy,  he  had  almost  always 
lived  at  his  little  house  of  Saint  Gratien,  beyond  Saint 
Denis,  where  he  bore  with  wisdom  the  injury  that  had 
been  done  him  and  the  neglect  he  had  experienced  upon 
his  return,  surrounded  by  his  family  and  a  small  num- 
ber of  friends.  Chamillart  one  day  sent  for  him,  say- 
ing that  he  had  the  King's  order  to  talk  with  him. 
Catinat  went  accordingly  to  Chamillart,  from  whom  he 
learned  that  he  was  destined  for  the  Rhine;  he  refused 
the  command,  and  only  accepted  it  after  a  long  dis- 
pute, by  the  necessity  of  obedience. 

On  the  morrow,  the  nth  of  March,  the  King  called 


3i2  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

Catinat  into  his  cabinet.  The  conversation  was  ami- 
able on  the  part  of  the  King,  serious  and  respectful 
on  the  part  of  Catinat.  The  King,  who  perceived  this, 
wished  to  make  him  speak  about  Italy,  and  pressed 
him  to  explain  what  had  really  passed  there.  Catinat 
excused  himself,  saying  that  everything  belonged  to 
the  past,  and  that  it  was  useless  now  to  rake  up  mat- 
ters which  would  give  him  a  bad  opinion  of  the  peo- 
ple who  served  him,  and  nourish  eternal  enmity.  The 
King  admired  the  sagacity  and  virtue  of  Catinat,  but, 
wishing  to  sound  the  depths  of  certain  things,  and  dis- 
cover who  was  really  to  blame,  pressed  him  more  and 
more  to  speak  out;  mentioning  certain  things  which 
Catinat  had  not  rendered  an  account  of,  and  others 
he  had  been  silent  upon,  all  of  which  had  come  to 
him  from  other  sources. 

Catinat,  who,  by  his  conversation  of  the  previous 
evening  with  Chamillart,  suspected  that  the  King 
would  say  something  to  him,  had  brought  his  papers 
to  Versailles.  Sure  of  his  position,  he  declared  that  he 
had  not  in  any  way  failed  to  render  account  to 
Chamillart  or  to  the  King,  and  detailed  the  very  things 
that  had  just  been  mentioned  to  him.  He  begged  that 
a  messenger  might  be  despatched  in  order  to  search 
his  cassette,  in  which  the  proofs  of  what  he  had  ad- 
vanced could  be  seen, — truths  that  Chamillart,  if  pres- 
ent, he  said,  would  not  dare  to  disavow.  The  King 
took  him  at  his  word,  and  sent  in  search  of  Chamillart. 

When  he  arrived,  the  King  related  to  him  the  con- 
versation that  had  just  taken  place.  Chamillart  re- 
plied with  an  embarrassed  voice,  that  there  was  no 
necessity  to  wait  for  the  cassette  of  Catinat,  for  he  ad- 
mitted that  the  accusation  against  him  was  true  in 
every  respect.  The  King,  much  astonished,  reproved 
him  for  his  infidelity  in  keeping  silence  upon  these 
comments,    whereby    Catinat    had    lost    his    favour. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  313 

Chamillart,  his  eyes  lowered,  allowed  the  King  to  say 
on;  but  as  he  felt  that  his  anger  was  rising,  said, 
"  Sire,  you  are  right;  but  it  is  not  my  fault." 

"  And  whose  is  it,  then?  "  replied  the  King  warmly. 
"Is  it  mine?" 

"  Certainly  not,  Sire,"  said  Chamillart,  trembling; 
"  but  I  am  bold  enough  to  tell  you,  with  the  most  ex- 
act truth,  that  it  is  not  mine." 

The  King  insisting,  Chamillart  was  obliged  to  ex- 
plain, that  having  shown  the  letters  of  Catinat  to 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  she  had  commanded  him  to 
keep  them  from  his  Majesty,  and  to  say  not  a  syllable 
about  them.  Chamillart  added,  that  Madame  de 
Maintenon  was  not  far  off,  and  supplicated  the  King 
to  ask  her  the  truth  of  this  matter. 

In  his  turn,  the  King  was  now  more  embarrassed 
than  Chamillart;  lowering  his  voice,  he  said  that  it 
was  inconceivable  how  Madame  de  Maintenon  felt 
interested  in  his  comfort,  and  endeavoured  to  keep 
from  him  everything  that  might  vex  him,  and  with- 
out showing  any  more  displeasure,  turned  to  Mar- 
shal Catinat,  said  he  was  delighted  with  an  explana- 
tion which  showed  that  nobody  was  wrong;  addressed 
several  gracious  remarks  to  the  Marshal;  begged  him 
to  remain  on  good  terms  with  Chamillart,  and  has- 
tened to  quit  them  and  enter  into  his  private  cabinet. 

Catinat,  more  ashamed  of  what  he  had  just  heard 
and  seen  than  pleased  with  a  justification  so  complete, 
paid  some  compliments  to  Chamillart,  who,  out  of  his 
wits  at  the  perilous  explanation  he  had  given,  re- 
ceived them,  and  returned  them  as  well  as  he  could. 
They  left  the  cabinet  soon  after,  and  the  selection  of 
Catinat  by  the  King  for  the  command  of  the  army 
of  the  Rhine  was  declared. 

Reflections  upon  this  affair  present  themselves  of 
their  own  accord.     The  King  verified  what  had  been 


314  DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON 

said  that  very  evening  with  Madame  de  Maintenon. 
They  were  only  on  better  terms  than  ever  in  conse- 
quence. She  approved  of  Chamillart  for  avowing  all; 
and  this  minister  was  only  the  better  treated  after- 
wards by  the  King  and  by  Madame  de  Maintenon. 

As  for  Catinat,  he  took  the  command  he  had  been 
called  to,  but  did  not  remain  long  in  it.  The  explana- 
tions that  had  passed,  all  the  more  dangerous  because 
in  his  favour,  were  not  of  a  kind  to  prove  otherwise 
than  hurtful  to  him.  He  soon  resigned  his  command, 
finding  himself  too  much  obstructed  to  do  anything, 
and  retired  to  his  house  of  Saint  Gratien,  near  Saint 
Denis,  which  he  scarcely  ever  left,  and  where  he  saw 
only  a  few  private  friends,  sorry  that  he  had  ever  left 
it,  and  that  he  had  listened  to  the  cajoleries  of  the 
King. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

CANAPLES,  brother  of  the  Marechal  de  Crequi, 
wished  to  marry  Mademoiselle  de  Vivonne, 
who  was  no  longer  young,  but  was  distinguished 
by  talent,  virtue,  and  high  birth ;  she  had  not  a  penny. 
The  Cardinal  de  Coislin,  thinking  Canaples  too  old  to 
marry,  told  him  so.  Canaples  said  he  wanted  to  have 
children.  "  Children!  "  exclaimed  the  Cardinal.  "  But 
she  is  so  virtuous!'  Everybody  burst  out  laughing; 
and  the  more  willingly,  as  the  Cardinal,  very  pure  in 
his  manners,  was  still  more  so  in  his  language.  His 
saying  was  verified  by  the  event :  the  marriage  proved 
sterile. 

The  Due  de  Coislin  died  about  this  time.  I  have 
related  in  its  proper  place  an  adventure  that  happened 
to  him  and  his  brother,  the  Chevalier  de  Coislin :  now 
I  will  say  something  more  of  the  Duke.  He  was  a  very 
little  man,  of  much  humour  and  virtue,  but  of  a  polite- 
ness that  was  unendurable,  and  that  passed  all  bounds, 
though  not  incompatible  with  dignity.  He  had  been 
lieutenant-general  in  the  army.  Upon  one  occasion, 
after  a  battle  in  which  he  had  taken  part,  one  of  the 
Rhingraves  who  had  been  made  prisoner,  fell  to  his 
lot.  The  Due  de  Coislin  wished  to  give  up  to  the  other 
his  bed,  which  consisted  indeed  of  but  a  mattress. 
They  complimented  each  other  so  much,  the  one  press- 
ing, the  other  refusing,  that  in  the  end  they  both  slept 
upon  the  ground,  leaving  the  mattress  between  them. 
The  Rhingrave  in  due  time  came  to  Paris  and  called 
on  the  Due  de  Coislin.  When  he  was  going,  there  was 
such  a  profusion  of  compliments,  and  the  Duke  insisted 

315 


316  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

so  much  on  seeing  him  out,  that  the  Rhingrave,  as  a 
last  resource,  ran  out  of  the  room,  and  double  locked 
the  door  outside.  M.  de  Coislin  was  not  thus  to  be 
outdone.  His  apartments  were  only  a  few  feet 
above  the  ground.  He  opened  the  window  accord- 
ingly, leaped  out  into  the  court,  and  arrived  thus  at 
the  entrance-door  before  the  Rhingrave,  who  thought 
the  devil  must  have  carried  him  there.  The  Due  de 
Coislin,  however,  had  managed  to  put  his  thumb  out 
of  joint  by  this  leap.  He  called  in  Felix,  chief  sur- 
geon of  the  King,  who  soon  put  the  thumb  to  rights. 
Soon  afterwards  Felix  made  a  call  upon  M.  de  Coislin 
to  see  how  he  was,  and  found  that  the  cure  was  per- 
fect. As  he  was  about  to  leave,  M.  de  Coislin  must 
needs  open  the  door  for  him.  Felix,  with  a  shower 
of  bows,  tried  hard  to  prevent  this,  and  while  they 
were  thus  vying  in  politeness,  each  with  a  hand  upon 
the  door,  the  Duke  suddenly  drew  back;  he  had  put 
his  thumb  out  of  joint  again,  and  Felix  was  obliged  to 
attend  to  it  on  the  spot !  It  may  be  imagined  what 
laughter  this  story  caused  the  King,  and  everybody 
else,  when  it  became  known. 

There  was  no  end  to  the  outrageous  civilities  of  M. 
de  Coislin.  On  returning  from  Fontainebleau  one  day, 
we,  that  is  Madame  de  Saint-Simon  and  myself,  en- 
countered M.  de  Coislin  and  his  son,  M.  de  Metz,  on 
foot  upon  the  pavement  of  Ponthierry,  where  their 
coach  had  broken  down.  We  sent  word,  accordingly, 
that  we  should  be  glad  to  accommodate  them  in  ours. 
But  message  followed  message  on  both  sides;  and  at 
last  I  was  compelled  to  alight  and  to  walk  through  the 
mud,  begging  them  to  mount  into  my  coach.  M.  de 
Coislin,  yielding  to  my  prayers,  consented  to  this.  M. 
de  Metz  was  furious  with  him  for  his  compliments, 
and  at  last  prevailed  on  him.  When  M.  de  Coislin  had 
accepted  my  offer  and  we  had  nothing  more  to  do  than 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  317 

to  gain  the  coach,  he  began  to  capitulate,  and  to  pro- 
test that  he  would  not  displace  the  two  young  ladies 
he  saw  seated  in  the  vehicle.  I  told  him  that  the  two 
young  ladies  were  chambermaids,  who  could  well 
afford  to  wait  until  the  other  carriage  was  mended, 
and  then  continue  their  journey  in  that.  But  he  would 
not  hear  of  this;  and  at  last  all  that  M.  de  Metz  and 
I  could  do  was  to  compromise  the  matter  by  agreeing 
to  take  one  of  the  chambermaids,  with  us.  When  we 
arrived  at  the  coach,  they  both  descended,  in  order  to 
allow  us  to  mount.  During  the  compliments  that 
passed — and  they  were  not  short — I  told  the  servant 
who  held  the  coach-door  open,  to  close  it  as  soon  as 
I  was  inside,  and  to  order  the  coachman  to  drive  on 
at  once.  This  was  done;  but  M.  de  Coislin  imme- 
diately began  to  cry  aloud  that  he  would  jump  out  if 
we  did  not  stop  for  the  young  ladies;  and  he  set  him- 
self to  do  so  in  such  an  odd  manner,  that  I  had  only 
time  to  catch  hold  of  the  belt  of  his  breeches  and  hold 
him  back;  but  he  still,  with  his  head  hanging  out  of 
the  window,  exclaimed  that  he  would  leap  out,  and 
pulled  against  me.  At  this  absurdity  I  called  to  the 
coachman  to  stop;  the  Duke  with  difficulty  recovered 
himself,  and  persisted  that  he  would  have  thrown  him- 
self out.  The  chambermaid  was  ordered  to  mount, 
and  mount  she  did,  all  covered  with  mud,  which 
daubed  us;  and  she  nearly  crushed  M.  de  Metz  and 
me  in  this  carriage  fit  only  for  four. 

M.  de  Coislin  could  not  bear  that  at  parting  anybody 
should  give  him  the  "last  touch;"  a  piece  of  sport, 
rarely  cared  for  except  in  early  youth,  and  out  of 
which  arises  a  chase  by  the  person  touched,  in  order 
to  catch  him  by  whom  he  has  been  touched.  One 
evening,  when  the  Court  was  at  Nancy,  and  just  as 
everybody  was  going  to  bed,  M.  de  Longueville  spoke 
a  few  words  in  private  to  two  of  his  torch-bearers,  and 


318  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

then  touching  the  Due  de  Coislin,  said  he  had  given 
him  the  last  touch,  and  scampered  away,  the  Duke 
hotly  pursuing  him.  Once  a  little  in  advance,  M.  de 
Longueville  hid  himself  in  a  doorway,  allowed  M.  de 
Coislin  to  pass  on,  and  then  went  quietly  home  to  bed. 
Meanwhile  the  Duke,  lighted  by  the  torch-bearers, 
searched  for  M.  de  Longueville  all  over  the  town,  but 
meeting  with  no  success,  was  obliged  to  give  up  the 
chase,  and  went  home  all  in  a  sweat.  He  was  obliged 
of  course  to  laugh  a  good  deal  at  this  joke,  but  he 
evidently  did  not  like  it  over  much. 

With  all  his  politeness,  which  was  in  no  way  put  on, 
M.  de  Coislin  could,  when  he  pleased,  show  a  great  deal 
of  firmness,  and  a  resolution  to  maintain  his  proper 
dignity  worthy  of  much  praise.  At  Nancy,  on  this 
same  occasion,  the  Due  de  Crequi,  not  finding  apart- 
ments provided  for  him  to  his  taste  on  arriving  in 
town,  went,  in  his  brutal  manner,  and  seized  upon  those 
allotted  to  the  Due  de  Coislin.  The  Duke,  arriving  a 
moment  after,  found  his  servants  turned  into  the 
street,  and  soon  learned  who  had  sent  them  there.  M. 
de  Crequi  had  precedence  of  him  in  rank;  he  said  not 
a  word,  therefore,  but  went  to  the  apartments  pro- 
vided for  the  Marechal  de  Crequi  (brother  of  the 
other),  served  him  exactly  as  he  himself  had  just  been 
served,  and  took  up  his  quarters  there.  The  Mare- 
chal de  Crequi  arrived  in  his  turn,  learned  what  had 
occurred,  and  immediately  seized  upon  the  apartments 
of  Cavoye,  in  order  to  teach  him  how  to  provide  quar- 
ters in  future  so  as  to  avoid  all  disputes. 

On  another  occasion,  M.  de  Coislin  went  to  the  Sor- 
bonne  to  listen  to  a  thesis  sustained  by  the  second  son 
of  M.  de  Bouillon.  When  persons  of  distinction  gave 
these  discourses,  it  was  customary  for  the  Princes  of 
the  blood,  and  for  many  of  the  Court,  to  go  and  hear 
them.     M.  de  Coislin  was  at  that  time  almost  last  in 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  319 

order  of  precedence  among  the  Dukes.  When  he  took 
his  seat,  therefore,  knowing  that  a  number  of  them 
would  probably  arrive,  he  left  several  rows  of  vacant 
places  in  front  of  him,  and  sat  himself  down.  Imme- 
diately afterwards,  Novion,  Chief  President  of  the 
Parliament,  arrived,  and  seated  himself  in  front  of  M. 
de  Coislin.  Astonished  at  this  act  of  madness,  M.  de 
Coislin  said  not  a  word,  but  took  an  arm-chair,  and, 
while  Novion  turned  his  head  to  speak  to  Cardinal 
de  Bouillon,  placed  that  arm-chair  in  front  of  the  Chief 
President  in  such  a  manner  that  he  was  as  it  were 
imprisoned,  and  unable  to  stir.  M.  de  Coislin  then 
sat  down.  This  was  done  so  rapidly,  that  nobody  saw 
it  until  it  was  finished.  When  once  it  was  observed, 
a  great  stir  arose.  Cardinal  de  Bouillon  tried  to  inter- 
vene. M.  de  Coislin  replied,  that  since  the  Chief  Presi- 
dent had  forgotten  his  position  he  must  be  taught  it, 
and  would  not  budge.  The  other  presidents  were  in  a 
fright,  and  Novion,  enraged  by  the  offence  put  on  him, 
knew  not  what  to  do.  It  was  in  vain  that  Cardinal  de 
Bouillon  on  one  side,  and  his  brother  on  the  other,  tried 
to  persuade  M.  de  Coislin  to  give  way.  He  would  not 
listen  to  them.  They  sent  a  message  to  him  to  say  that 
somebody  wanted  to  see  him  at  the  door  on  most  im- 
portant business.  But  this  had  no  effect.  "  There  is 
no  business  so  important,"  replied  M.  de  Coislin,  "as 
that  of  teaching  M.  le  Premier  President  what  he  owes 
me,  and  nothing  will  make  me  go  from  this  place  un- 
less M.  le  President,  whom  you  see  behind  me,  goes 
away  first." 

At  last  M.  le  Prince  was  sent  for,  and  he  with  much 
persuasion  endeavoured  to  induce  M.  de  Coislin  to  re- 
lease the  Chief  President  from  his  prison.  But  for 
some  time  M.  de  Coislin  would  listen  as  little  to  M.  le 
Prince  as  he  had  listened  to  the  others,  and  threatened 
to  keep  Novion  thus  shut  up  during  all  the  thesis.    At 


320  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

length,  he  consented  to  set  the  Chief  President  free, 
but  only  on  condition  that  he  left  the  building  immedi- 
ately; that  M.  le  Prince  should  guarantee  this;  and  that 
no  "  juggling  tricks  "  (that  was  the  term  he  made  use 
of),  should  be  played  off  to  defeat  the  agreement.  M. 
le  Prince  at  once  gave  his  word  that  everything  should 
be  as  he  required,  and  M.  de  Coislin  then  rose,  moved 
away  his  arm-chair,  and  said  to  the  Chief  President, 
"Go  away,  sir!  go  away,  sir!'  Novion  did  on  the 
instant  go  away,  in  the  utmost  confusion,  and  jumped 
into  his  coach.  M.  de  Coislin  thereupon  took  back  his 
chair  to  its  former  position  and  composed  himself  to 
listen  again. 

On  every  side  M.  de  Coislin  was  praised  for  the 
firmness  he  had  shown.  The  Princes  of  the  blood 
called  upon  him  the  same  evening,  and  complimented 
him  for  the  course  he  had  adopted;  and  so  many 
other  visitors  came  during  the  evening  that  his  house 
was  quite  full  until  a  late  hour.  On  the  morrow  the 
King  also  praised  him  for  his  conduct,  and  severely 
blamed  the  Chief  President.  Nay  more,  he  commanded 
the  latter  to  go  to  M.  de  Coislin,  at  his  house,  and  beg 
pardon  of  him.  It  is  easy  to  comprehend  the  shame 
and  despair  of  Novion  at  being  ordered  to  take  so 
humiliating  a  step,  especially  after  what  had  already 
happened  to  him.  He  prevailed  upon  M.  le  Coislin, 
through  the  mediation  of  friends,  to  spare  him  this 
pain,  and  M.  de  Coislin  had  the  generosity  to  do  so. 
He  agreed  therefore  that  when  Novion  called  upon 
him  he  would  pretend  to  be  out,  and  this  was  done. 
The  King,  when  he  heard  of  it,  praised  very  highly  the 
forbearance  of  the  Duke. 

He  was  not  an  old  man  when  he  died,  but  was  eaten 
up  with  the  gout,  which  he  sometimes  had  in  his  eyes, 
in  his  nose,  and  in  his  tongue.  When  in  this  state,  his 
room  was  filled  with  the  best  company.    He  was  very 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  321 

generally  liked,  was  truth  itself  in  his  dealings  and  his 
words,  and  was  one  of  my  friends,  as  he  had  been  the 
friend  of  my  father  before  me. 

The  President  de  Novion,  above  alluded  to,  was  a 
man  given  up  to  iniquity,  whom  money  and  obscure 
mistresses  alone  influenced.  Lawyers  complained  of 
his  caprices,  and  pleaders  of  his  injustice.  At  last,  he 
went  so  far  as  to  change  decisions  of  the  court  when 
they  were  given  him  to  sign,  which  was  not  found 
out  for  some  time,  but  which  led  to  his  disgrace.  He 
was  replaced  by  Harlay  in  1689;  and  lived  in  igno- 
miny for  four  years  more. 

About  this  time  died  Petit,  a  great  physician,  who 
had  wit,  knowledge,  experience,  and  probity;  and  yet 
lived  to  the  last  without  being  ever  brought  to  admit 
the  circulation  of  the  blood. 

A  rather  strange  novelty  was  observed  at  Fontaine- 
bleau:  Madame  publicly  at  the  play,  in  the  second 
year  of  her  mourning  for  Monsieur!  She  made  some 
objections  at  first,  but  the  King  persuaded  her,  saying 
that  what  took  place  in  his  palace  ought  not  to  be  con- 
sidered as  public. 

On  Saturday,  the  22nd  of  October  of  this  year 
(1702),  at  about  ten  in  the  morning,  I  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  lose  my  father-in-law,  the  Marechal  de 
Lorges,  who  died  from  the  effects  of  an  unskilful  oper- 
ation performed  upon  him  for  the  stone.  He  had 
been  brought  up  as  a  Protestant,  and  had  practised 
that  religion.  But  he  had  consulted  on  the  one  hand 
with  Bossuet,  and  on  the  other  hand  with  M.  Claude, 
(Protestant)  minister  of  Charenton,  without  acquaint- 
ing them  that  he  was  thus  in  communication  with 
both.  In  the  end  the  arguments  of  Bossuet  so  con- 
vinced him  that  he  lost  from  that  time  all  his  doubts, 
became  steadfastly  attached  to  the  Catholic  religion, 
and  strove  hard  to  convert  to  it  all  the  Protestants 


322  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

with  whom  he  spoke.  M.  de  Turenne,  with  whom  he 
was  intimately  allied,  was  in  a  similar  state  of  mind, 
and,  singularly  enough,  his  doubts  were  resolved  at 
the  same  time,  and  in  exactly  the  same  manner,  as 
those  of  M.  de  Lorges.  The  joy  of  the  two  friends, 
who  had  both  feared  they  should  be  estranged  from 
each  other  when  they  announced  their  conversion,  was 
very  great.  The  Comtesse  de  Roye,  sister  to  M.  de 
Lorges,  was  sorely  affected  at  this  change,  and  she 
would  not  consent  to  see  him  except  on  condition  that 
he  never  spoke  of  it. 

M.  de  Lorges  commanded  with  great  distinction  in 
Holland  and  elsewhere,  and  at  the  death  of  M.  de 
Turenne,  took  for  the  time,  and  with  great  honour, 
his  place.  He  was  made  Marshal  of  France  on  the 
2  ist  of  February,  1676,  not  before  he  had  fairly  won 
that  distinction.  The  remainder  of  his  career  snowed 
his  capacity  in  many  ways,  and  acquired  for  him  the 
esteem  of  all.  His  family  were  affected  beyond  meas- 
ure at  his  loss.  That  house  was  in  truth  terrible  to 
see.  Never  was  man  so  tenderly  or  so  universally 
regretted,  or  so  worthy  of  being  so.  Besides  my  own 
grief,  I  had  to  sustain  that  of  Madame  de  Saint- 
Simon,  whom  many  times  I  thought  I  should  lose. 
Nothing  was  comparable  to  the  attachment  she  had  for 
her  father,  or  the  tenderness  he  had  for  her;  noth- 
ing more  perfectly  alike  than  their  hearts  and  their 
dispositions.  As  for  me,  I  loved  him  as  a  father, 
and  he  loved  me  as  a  son,  with  the  most  entire  and 
sweetest  confidence. 

About  the  same  time  died  the  Duchesse  de  Gesvres, 
separated  from  a  husband  who  had  been  the  scourge 
of  his  family,  and  had  dissipated  millions  of  her  for- 
tune. She  was  a  sort  of  witch,  tall  and  lean,  who 
walked  like  an  ostrich.  She  sometimes  came  to  Court, 
with  the  odd  look  and  famished  expression  to  which 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  323 

her  husband  had  brought  her.  Virtue,  wit,  and  dig- 
nity distinguished  her.  I  remember  that  one  summer 
the  King  took  to  going  very  often  in  the  evening  to 
Trianon,  and  that  once  for  all  he  gave  permission  to 
all  the  Court,  men  and  women,  to  follow  him.  There 
was  a  grand  collation  for  the  Princesses,  his  daugh- 
ters, who  took  their  friends  there,  and  indeed  all  the 
women  went  to  it  if  they  pleased.  One  day  the  Du- 
chesse  de  Gesvres  took  it  into  her  head  to  go  to 
Trianon  and  partake  of  this  meal;  her  age,  her  rarity 
at  Court,  her  accoutrements,  and  her  face,  provoked 
the  Princesses  to  make  fun  of  her  in  whispers  with 
their  fair  visitors.  She  perceived  this,  and  without 
being  embarrassed,  took  them  up  so  sharply,  that  they 
were  silenced,  and  looked  down.  But  this  was  not 
all :  after  the  collation  she  began  to  talk  so  freely 
and  yet  so  humorously  about  them  that  they  were 
frightened,  and  went  and  made  their  excuses,  and  very 
frankly  asked  for  quarter.  Madame  de  Gesvres  was 
good  enough  to  grant  them  this,  but  said  it  was  only 
on  condition  that  they  learned  how  to  behave.  Never 
afterwards  did  they  venture  to  look  at  her  imperti- 
nently. Nothing  was  ever  so  magnificent  as  these 
soirees  of  Trianon.  All  the  flowers  of  the  parterres 
were  renewed  every  day;  and  I  have  seen  the  King 
and  all  the  Court  obliged  to  go  away  because  of  the 
tuberoses,  the  odour  of  which  perfumed  the  air,  but 
so  powerfully,  on  account  of  their  quantity,  that  no- 
body could  remain  in  the  garden,  although  very  vast, 
and  stretching  like  a  terrace  all  along  the  canal. 


Vol.  11  Memoirs — K 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  Prince  d'Harcourt  at  last  obtained  permis- 
sion to  wait  on  the  King,  after  having  never 
appeared  at  Court  for  seventeen  years.  He  had 
followed  the  King  in  all  his  conquests  in  the  Low 
Countries  and  Franche-Comte;  but  he  had  remained 
little  at  the  Court  since  his  voyage  to  Spain,  whither 
he  had  accompanied  the  daughter  of  Monsieur  to  the 
King,  Charles  II.,  her  husband.  The  Prince  d'Har- 
court took  service  with  Venice,  and  fought  in  the 
Morea  until  the  Republic  made  peace  with  the  Turks. 
He  was  tall,  well  made;  and,  although  he  looked  like 
a  nobleman  and  had  wit,  reminded  one  at  the  same  time 
of  a  country  actor.  He  was  a  great  liar,  and  a  libertine 
in  body  and  mind;  a  great  spendthrift,  a  great  and 
impudent  swindler,  with  a  tendency  to  low  debauchery, 
that  cursed  him  all  his  life.  Having  fluttered  about 
a  long  time  after  his  return,  and  found  it  impossible 
either  to  live  with  his  wife — which  is  not  surprising — 
or  accommodate  himself  to  the  Court  or  to  Paris,  he 
set  up  his  rest  at  Lyons  with  wine,  street-walkers,  a 
society  to  match,  a  pack  of  hounds,  and  a  gaming- 
table to  support  his  extravagance  and  enable  him  to 
live  at  the  expense  of  the  dupes,  the  imbeciles,  and  the 
sons  of  fat  tradesmen,  whom  he  could  lure  into  his 
nets.  Thus  he  spent  many  years,  and  seemed  to  forget 
that  there  existed  in  the  world  another  country  besides 
Lyons.  At  last  he  got  tired,  and  returned  to  Paris. 
The  King,  who  despised  him,  let  him  alone,  but  would 
not  see  him;  and  it  was  only  after  two  months  of  beg- 
ging for  him  by  the  Lorraines,  that  he  received  per- 

324 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  325 

mission  to  present  himself.  His  wife,  the  Princesse 
d'Harcourt,  was  a  favourite  of  Madame  de  Mainte- 
non.  The  origin  of  their  friendship  is  traced  to  the 
fact  that  Brancas,  the  father  of  the  Princess,  had  been 
one  of  the  lovers  of  Madame  de  Maintenon.  No  claim 
less  powerful  could  have  induced  the  latter  to  take 
into  her  favour  a  person  who  was  so  little  worthy. 
Like  all  women  who  know  nothing  but  what  chance 
has  taught  them,  and  who  have  long  languished  in 
obscurity  before  arriving  at  splendour,  Madame  de 
Maintenon  was  dazzled  by  the  very  name  of  Princess, 
even  if  assumed :  as  to  a  real  Princess,  nothing  equalled 
her  in  her  opinion.  The  Princess  then  tried  hard  to 
get  the  Prince  invited  to  Marly,  but  without  success. 
Upon  this  she  pretended  to  sulk,  in  hopes  that  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon  would  exert  all  her  influence;  but 
in  this  she  was  mistaken.  The  Prince  accordingly  by 
degrees  got  disgusted  with  the  Court,  and  retired  into 
the  provinces  for  a  time. 

The  Princesse  d'Harcourt  was  a  sort  of  personage 
whom  it  is  good  to  make  known,  in  order  better  to  lay 
bare  a  Court  which  did  not  scruple  to  receive  such  as 
she.  She  had  once  been  beautiful  and  gay;  but  though 
not  old,  all  her  grace  and  beauty  had  vanished.  The 
rose  had  become  an  ugly  thorn.  At  the  time  I  speak 
of  she  was  a  tall,  fat  creature,  mightily  brisk  in  her 
movements,  with  a  complexion  like  milk-porridge; 
great,  ugly,  thick  lips,  and  hair  like  tow,  always  stick- 
ing out  and  hanging  down  in  disorder,  like  all  the  rest 
of  her  fittings  out.  Dirty,  slatternly,  always  intrigu- 
ing, pretending,  enterprising,  quarrelling — always  low 
as  the  grass  or  high  as  the  rainbow,  according  to  the 
person  with  whom  she  had  to  deal :  she  was  a  blonde 
Fury,  nay  more,  a  harpy :  she  had  all  the  effrontery  of 
one,  and  the  deceit  and  violence;  all  the  avarice  and 
the  audacity;  moreover,  all  the  gluttony,  and  all  the 


Z26  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

promptitude  to  relieve  herself  from  the  effects  thereof; 
so  that  she  drove  out  of  their  wits  those  at  whose  house 
she  dined;  was  often  a  victim  of  her  confidence;  and 
was  many  a  time  sent  to  the  devil  by  the  servants  of 
M.  du  Maine  and  M.  le  Grand.  She,  however,  was 
never  in  the  least  embarrassed,  tucked  up  her  petti- 
coats and  went  her  way;  then  returned,  saying  she  had 
been  unwell.     People  were  accustomed  to  it. 

Whenever  money  was  to  be  made  by  scheming  and 
bribery,  she  was  there  to  make  it.  At  play  she  always 
cheated,  and  if  found  out  stormed  and  raged;  but 
pocketed  what  she  had  won.  People  looked  upon  her 
as  they  would  have  looked  upon  a  fish-fag,  and  did  not 
like  to  commit  themselves  by  quarrelling  with  her.  At 
the  end  of  every  game  she  used  to  say  that  she  gave 
whatever  might  have  been  unfairly  gained  to  those 
who  had  gained  it,  and  hoped  that  others  would  do 
likewise.  For  she  was  very  devout  by  profession,  and 
thought  by  so  doing  to  put  her  conscience  in  safety; 
because,  she  used  to  add,  in  play  there  is  always  some 
mistake.  She  went  to  church  always,  and  constantly 
took  the  sacrament,  very  often  after  having  played 
until  four  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

One  day,  when  there  was  a  grand  fete  at  Fontaine- 
bleau,  Madame  la  Marechale  de  Villeroy  persuaded 
her,  out  of  malice,  to  sit  down  and  play,  instead  of 
going  to  evening  prayers.  She  resisted  some  time, 
saying  that  Madame  de  Maintenon  was  going;  but  the 
Marechale  laughed  at  her  for  believing  that  her  patron 
could  see  who  was  and  who  was  not  at  the  chapel :  so 
down  they  sat  to  play.  When  the  prayers  were  over, 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  by  the  merest  accident — for 
she  scarcely  ever  visited  any  one — went  to  the  apart- 
ments of  the  Marechale  de  Villeroy.  The  door  was 
flung  back,  and  she  was  announced.  This  was  a  thun- 
derbolt for  the  Princesse  d'Harcourt.    "  I  am  ruined," 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  327 

cried  she,  unable  to  restrain  herself;  "  she  will  see  me 
playing,  and  I  ought  to  have  been  at  chapel !  "    Down 
fell  the  cards  from  her  hands,  and  down  fell  she  all 
abroad  in  her  chair.     The  Marechale  laughed  most 
heartily  at  so  complete  an  adventure.     Madame   de 
Maintenon  entered  slowly,  and  found  the  Princess  in 
this  state,  with  five  or  six  persons.    The  Marechale  de 
Villeroy,  who  was  full  of  wit,  began  to  say  that,  whilst 
doing  her  a  great  honour,  Madame  was  the  cause  of 
great  disorder;  and  showed  her  the  Princesse  d'Har- 
court  in  her  state  of  discomfiture.     Madame  de  Main- 
tenon  smiled  with  majestic  kindness,  and  addressing 
the  Princesse  d'Harcourt,  "  Is  this  the  way,"  said  she, 
'that  you  go  to  prayers?"     Thereupon  the  Princess 
flew  out  of  her  half-faint  into  a  sort  of  fury;  said 
that  this  was  the  kind  of  trick  that  was  played  off  upon 
her;  that  no  doubt  the  Marechale  knew  that  Madame 
de  Maintenon  was  coming,  and  for  that  reason  had 
persecuted  her  to  play.    "  Persecuted !  "  exclaimed  the 
Marechale,  "  I  thought  I  could  not  receive  you  better 
than  by  proposing  a  game;  it  is  true  you  were  for  a 
moment  troubled  at  missing  the  chapel,  but  your  tastes 
carried  the  day. — This,  Madame,  is  my  whole  crime," 
continued    she,    addressing    Madame    de    Maintenon. 
Upon   this,    everybody    laughed    louder    than   before.- 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  in  order  to  stop  the  quarrel, 
commanded  them  both  to  continue  their  game;  and 
they  continued  accordingly,  the  Princesse  d'Harcourt, 
still  grumbling,  quite  beside  herself,  blinded  with  fury, 
so  as  to  commit   fresh  mistakes  every  minute..     So 
ridiculous  an  adventure  diverted  the  Court  for  sev- 
eral  days;    for   this   beautiful   Princess   was   equally 
feared,  hated,  and  despised. 

Monseigneur  le  Due  and  Madame  la  Duchesse  de 
Bourgogne  continually  played  off  pranks  upon  her. 
They  put,  one  day,  crackers  all  along  the  avenue  of 


328  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

the  chateau  at  Marly,  that  led  to  the  Perspective  where 
she  lodged.  She  was  horribly  afraid  of  everything. 
The  Duke  and  Duchess  bribed  two  porters  to  be  ready 
to  take  her  into  the  mischief.  When  she  was  right  in 
the  middle  of  the  avenue  the  crackers  began  to  go  off, 
and  she  to  cry  aloud  for  mercy;  the  chairman  set  her 
down  and  ran  for  it.  There  she  was,  then,  struggling 
in  her  chair,  furiously  enough  to  upset  it,  and  yelling 
like  a  demon.  At  this  the  company,  which  had  gath- 
ered at  the  door  of  the  chateau  to  see  the  fun,  ran  to 
her  assistance,  in  order  to  have  the  pleasure  of  enjoy- 
ing the  scene  more  fully.  Thereupon  she  set  to  abus- 
ing everybody  right  and  left,  commencing  with  Mon- 
seigneur  and  Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne.  At 
another  time  M.  de  Bourgogne  put  a  cracker  under 
her  chair  in  the  salon,  where  she  was  playing  at  piquet. 
As  he  was  about  to  set  fire  to  this  cracker,  some  char- 
itable soul  warned  him  that  it  would  maim  her,  and  he 
desisted. 

Sometimes  they  used  to  send  about  twenty  Swiss 
guards,  with  drums,  into  her  chamber,  who  roused  her 
from  her  first  sleep  by  their  horrid  din.  Another 
time — and  these  scenes  were  always  at  Marly — they 
waited  until  very  late  for  her  to  go  to  bed  and  sleep. 
She  lodged  not  far  from  the  post  of  the  captain  of  the 
guards,  who  was  at  that  time  the  Marechal  de  Lorges. 
It  had  snowed  very  hard,  and  had  frozen.  Madame 
la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  and  her  suite  gathered 
snow  from  the  terrace  which  is  on  a  level  with  their 
lodgings;  and,  in  order  to  be  better  supplied,  waked 
up,  to  assist  them,  the  Marechal's  people,  who  did  not 
let  them  want  for  ammunition.  Then,  with  a  false  key, 
and  lights,  they  gently  slipped  into  the  chamber  of  the 
Princesse  d'Harcourt;  and,  suddenly  drawing  the  cur- 
tains of  her  bed,  pelted  her  amain  with  snowballs.  The 
filthy  creature,  waking  up  with  a  start,  bruised  and 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  329 

stifled  in  snow,  with  which  even  her  ears  were  filled, 
with  dishevelled  hair,  yelling  at  the  top  of  her  voice, 
and  wriggling  like  an  eel,  without  knowing  where  to 
hide,  formed  a  spectacle  that  diverted  people  more 
than  half  an  hour :  so  that  at  last  the  nymph  swam  in 
her  bed,  from  which  the  water  flowed  everywhere, 
slushing  all  the  chamber.  It  was  enough  to  make  one 
die  of  laughter.  On  the  morrow  she  sulked,  and  was 
more  than  ever  laughed  at  for  her  pains. 

Her  fits  of  sulkiness  came  over  her  either  when  the 
tricks  played  were  too  violent,  or  when  M.  le  Grand 
abused  her.  He  thought,  very  properly,  that  a  person 
who  bore  the  name  of  Lorraine  should  not  put  herself 
so  much  on  the  footing  of  a  buffoon;  and,  as  he  was 
a  rough  speaker,  he  sometimes  said  the  most  abomi- 
nable things  to  her  at  table;  upon  which  the  Princess 
would  burst  out  crying,  and  then,  being  enraged,  would 
sulk.  The  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  used  then  to  pre- 
tend to  sulk,  too;  but  the  other  did  not  hold  out  long, 
and  came  crawling  back  to  her,  crying,  begging  par- 
don for  having  sulked,  and  praying  that  she  might 
not  cease  to  be  a  source  of  amusement !  After  some 
time  the  Duchess  would  allow  herself  to  be  melted, 
and  the  Princess  was  more  villainously  treated  than 
ever,  for  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  had  her  own  way 
in  everything.  Neither  the  King  nor  Madame  de 
Maintenon  found  fault  with  what  she  did,  so  that  the 
Princesse  d'Harcourt  had  no  resource;  she  did  not 
even  dare  to  complain  of  those  who  aided  in  torment- 
ing her;  yet  it  would  not  have  been  prudent  in  any  one 
to  make  her  an  enemy. 

The  Princesse  d'Harcourt  paid  her  servants  so  badly 
that  they  concocted  a  plan,  and  one  fine  day  drew  up 
on  the  Pont  Neuf.  The  coachman  and  footmen  got 
down,  and  came  and  spoke  to  her  at  the  door,  in  lan- 
guage she  was  not  used  to  hear.    Her  ladies  and  cham- 


330  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

bermaid  got  down,  and  went  away,  leaving  her  to  shift 
as  she  might.  Upon  this  she  set  herself  to  harangue 
the  blackguards  who  collected,  and  was  only  too  happy 
to  find  a  man,  who  mounted  upon  the  seat  and  drove 
her  home.  Another  time,  Madame  de  Saint-Simon, 
returning  from  Versailles,  overtook  her,  walking  in 
full  dress  in  the  street,  and  with  her  train  under  her 
arms.  Madame  de  Saint-Simon  stopped,  offered  her 
assistance,  and  found  that  she  had  been  left  by  her 
servants,  as  on  the  Pont  Neuf.  It  was  volume  the  sec- 
ond of  that  story;  and  even  when  she  came  back  she 
found  her  house  deserted,  every  one  having  gone  away 
at  once  by  agreement.  She  was  very  violent  with  her 
servants,  beat  them,  and  changed  them  every  day. 

Upon  one  occasion,  she  took  into  her  service  a 
strong  and  robust  chambermaid,  to  whom,  from  the 
first  day  of  her  arrival,  she  gave  many  slaps  and  boxes 
on  the  ear.  The  chambermaid  said  nothing,  but  after 
submitting  to  this  treatment  for  five  or  six  days,  con- 
ferred with  the  other  servants;  and  one  morning,  while 
in  her  mistress's  room,  locked  the  door  without  being 
perceived,  said  something  to  bring  down  punishment 
upon  her,  and  at  the  first  box  on  the  ear  she  received, 
flew  upon  the  Princesse  d'Harcourt,  gave  her  no  end 
of  thumps  and  slaps,  knocked  her  down,  kicked  her, 
mauled  her  from  her  head  to  her  feet,  and  when  she 
was  tired  of  this  exercise,  left  her  on  the  ground,  all 
torn  and  dishevelled,  howling  like  a  devil.  The  cham- 
bermaid then  quitted  the  room,  double-locked  the  door 
on  the  outside,  gained  the  staircase,  and  fled  the  house. 

Every  day  the  Princess  was  fighting,  or  mixed  up 
in  some  adventures.  Her  neighbours  at  Marly  said 
they  could  not  sleep  for  the  riot  she  made  at  night;  and 
I  remember  that,  after  one  of  these  scenes,  everybody 
went  to  see  the  room  of  the  Duchesse  de  Villeroy  and 
that  of  Madame  d'Espinoy,  who  had  put  their  bed  in 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  331 

the  middle  of  their  room,  and  who  related  their  night 
vigils  to  every  one. 

Such  was  this  favourite  of  Madame  de  Maintenon; 
so  insolent  and  so  insupportable  to  every  one,  but  who 
had  favours  and  preferences  for  those  who  brought  her 
over,  and  who  had  raised  so  many  young  men,  amassed 
their  wealth,  and  made  herself  feared  even  by  the 
Prince  and  minister. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

IN  a  previous  page  I  have  alluded  to  the  Princesse 
des  Ursins,  when  she  was  appointed  Camerera 
Mayor  to  the  Queen  of  Spain  on  her  marriage. 
As  I  have  now  to  occupy  myself  more  particularly 
with  her,  it  may  be  as  well  to  give  a  description  of 
this  extraordinary  woman,  which  I  omitted  when  I 
first  spoke  of  her. 

Anne  Marie  de  la  Tremoille,  was  daughter  of  M.  de 
Noirmoutiers,  who  figured  sufficiently  in  the  troubles 
of  the  minority  to  be  made  a  Due  a  brevet.  She  first 
married  M.  Talleyrand,  who  called  himself  Prince  de 
Chalais,  and  who  was  obliged  to  quit  the  kingdom  for 
engaging  in  the  famous  duel  against  Messieurs  de  la 
Frette.  She  followed  her  husband  to  Spain,  where  he 
died.  Having  gone  to  Rome,  she  got  into  favour  with 
the  Cardinals  de  Bouillon  and  d'Estrees,  first  on  ac- 
count of  her  name  and  nation,  and  afterwards  for 
more  tender  reasons.  In  order  to  detain  her  at  Rome, 
these  dignitaries  thought  of  obtaining  her  an  estab- 
lishment. She  had  no  children,  and  almost  no  for- 
tune, they  wrote  to  Court  that  so  important  a  man 
as  the  Due  de  Bracciano,  Prince  des  Ursins,  was  worth 
gaining;  and  that  the  way  to  arrive  at  this  result  was 
to  have  him  married  to  Madame  de  Chalais.  The 
Duke  was  persuaded  by  the  two  Cardinals  that  he  was 
in  love  with  Madame  de  Chalais:  and  so  the  affair 
was  arranged.  Madame  des  Ursins  displayed  all  her 
wit  and  charms  at  Rome;  and  soon  her  palace  be- 
came a  sort  of  court,  where  all  the  best  company 
assembled.     It  grew  to  be  the   fashion  to  go  there. 

332 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  333 

The  husband  amidst  all  this  counts  for  not  much. 
There  was  sometimes  a  little  disagreement  between  the 
two,  without  open  rupture;  yet  they  were  now  and 
then  glad  to  separate.  This  is  why  the  Duchesse  de 
Bracciano  made  two  journeys  to  France:  the  second 
time  she  spent  four  or  five  years  there.  It  was  then 
I  knew  her,  or  rather  formed  a  particular  friendship 
with  her.  My  mother  had  made  her  acquaintance  dur- 
ing her  previous  visit.  She  lodged  near  us.  Her  wit, 
her  grace,  her  manners  enchanted  me :  she  received 
me  with  tenderness  and  I  was  always  at  her  house. 
It  was  she  who  proposed  to  me  a  marriage  with  Mile, 
de  Roy  an,  which  I  rejected  for  the  reason  already 
given. 

When  Madame  des  Ursins  was  appointed  Camerera 
Mayor,  she  was  a  widow,  without  children.  No  one 
could  have  been  better  suited  for  the  post.  A  lady  of 
our  court  would  not  have  done :  a  Spanish  lady  was 
not  to  be  depended  on,  and  might  have  easily  disgusted 
the  Queen.  The  Princesse  des  Ursins  appeared  to  be 
a  middle  term.  She  was  French,  had  been  in  Spain, 
and  she  passed  a  great  part  of  her  life  at  Rome,  and  in 
Italy.  She  was  of  the  house  of  La  Tremoille :  her 
husband  was  chief  of  the  house  of  Ursins,  a  grandee  of 
Spain,  and  Prince  of  the  Soglio.  She  was  also  on  very 
good  terms  with  the  Duchess  of  Savoy,  and  with  the 
Queen  of  Portugal.  The  Cardinal  d'Estrees,  also,  was 
known  to  have  remained  her  friend,  after  having  been 
something  more  in  their  youth;  and  he  gave  informa- 
tion that  the  Cardinal  Portocarrero  had  been  much  in 
love  with  her  at  Rome,  and  that  they  were  then  on 
very  good  terms.  As  it  was  through  the  latter  Cardi- 
nal that  it  was  necessary  to  govern  everything,  this 
circumstance  was  considered  very  important. 

Age  and  health  were  also  appropriate;  and  likewise 
her  appearance.    She  was  rather  tall  than  otherwise,  a 


334  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

brunette,  with  blue  eyes  of  the  most  varied  expression, 
in  figure  perfect,  with  a  most  exquisite  bosom;  her 
face,  without  being  beautiful,  was  charming;  she  was 
extremely  noble  in  air,  very  majestic  in  demeanour, 
full  of  graces  so  natural  and  so  continual  in  every- 
thing, that  I  have  never  seen  any  one  approach  her, 
either  in  form  or  mind.  Her  wit  was  copious  and  of 
all  kinds:  she  was  flattering,  caressing,  insinuating, 
moderate,  wishing  to  please  for  pleasing's  sake,  with 
charms  irresistible  when  she  strove  to  persuade  and 
win  over;  accompanying  all  this,  she  had  a  grandeur 
that  encouraged  instead  of  frightening;  a  delicious 
conversation,  inexhaustible  and  very  amusing,  for  she 
had  seen  many  countries  and  persons;  a  voice  and  way 
of  speaking  extremely  agreeable,  and  full  of  sweetness. 
She  had  read  much,  and  reflected  much.  She  knew 
how  to  choose  the  best  society,  how  to  receive  them, 
and  could  even  have  held  a  court;  was  polite,  distin- 
guished; and  above  all  was  careful  never  to  take  a  step 
in  advance  without  dignity  and  discretion.  She  was 
eminently  fitted  for  intrigue,  in  which,  from  taste,  she 
had  passed  her  time  at  Rome;  with  much  ambition, 
but  of  that  vast  kind,  far  above  her  sex,  and  the  com- 
mon run  of  men — a  desire  to  occupy  a  great  position 
and  to  govern.  A  love  for  gallantry  and  personal 
vanity  were  her  foibles,  and  these  clung  to  her  until 
her  latest  day;  consequently,  she  dressed  in  a  way 
that  no  longer  became  her,  and  as  she  advanced  in  life, 
removed  further  from  propriety  in  this  particular.  She 
was  an  ardent  and  excellent  friend — of  a  friendship 
that  time  and  absence  never  enfeebled ;  and,  conse- 
quently, an  implacable  enemy,  pursuing  her  hatred  to 
the  infernal  regions.  While  caring  little  for  the  means 
by  which  she  gained  her  ends,  she  tried  as  much  as 
possible  to  reach  them  by  honest  means.  Secret,  not 
only  for  herself,  but  for  her  friends,  she  was  yet  of 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  335 

a  decorous  gaiety,  and  so  governed  her  humours,  that 
at  all  times  and  in  everything  she  was  mistress  of 
herself.     Such  was  the  Princesse  des  Ursins. 

From  the  first  moment  on  which  she  entered  the 
service  of  the  Queen  of  Spain,  it  became  her  desire  to 
govern  not  only  the  Queen,  but  the  King;  and  by  this 
means  the  realm  itself.  Such  a  grand  project  had 
need  of  support  from  our  King,  who,  at  the  com- 
mencement, ruled  the  Court  of  Spain  as  much  as  his 
own  Court,  with  entire  influence  over  all  matters. 

The  young  Queen  of  Spain  had  been  not  less 
carefully  educated  than  her  sister,  the  Duchesse  de 
Bourgogne.  She  had  even  when  so  young  much  intelli- 
gence and  firmness,  without  being  incapable  of  re- 
straint; and  as  time  went  on,  improved  still  further, 
and  displayed  a  constancy  and  courage  which  were  ad- 
mirably set  off  by  her  meekness  and  natural  graces. 
According  to  everything  I  have  heard  said  in  France 
and  in  Spain,  she  possessed  all  qualities  that  were 
necessary  to  make  her  adored.  Indeed  she  became  a 
divinity  among  the  Spaniards,  and  to  their  affection 
for  her,  Philip  V.  was  more  than  once  indebted  for 
his  crown.  Lords,  ladies,  soldiers,  and  the  people 
still  remember  her  with  tears  in  their  eyes;  and  even 
after  the  lapse  of  so  many  years,  are  not  yet  consoled 
for  her  loss. 

Madame  des  Ursins  soon  managed  to  obtain  the 
entire  confidence  of  this  Queen;  and  during  the  ab- 
sence of  Philip  V.  in  Italy,  assisted  her  in  the  admin- 
istration of  all  public  offices.  She  even  accompanied 
her  to  the  Junta,  it  not  being  thought  proper  that  the 
Queen  should  be  alone  amid  such  an  assemblage  of 
men.  In  this  way  she  became  acquainted  with  every- 
thing that  was  passing,  and  knew  all  the  affairs  of  the 
Government. 

This  step  gained,  it  will  be  imagined  that  the  Prin- 


336  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

cesse  des  Ursins  did  not  forget  to  pay  her  court  most 
assiduously  to  our  King  and  to  Madame  de  Mainte- 
non. She  continually  sent  them  an  exact  account  of 
everything  relating  to  the  Queen — making  her  appear 
in  the  most  favourable  light  possible.  Little  by  little 
she  introduced  into  her  letters  details  respecting  public 
events;  without,  however,  conveying  a  suspicion  of 
her  own  ambition,  or  that  she  wished  to  meddle  in 
these  matters.  Anchored  in  this  way,  she  next  began 
to  flatter  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  by  degrees  to 
hint  that  she  might  rule  over  Spain,  even  more  firmly 
than  she  ruled  over  France,  if  she  would  entrust  her 
commands  to  Madame  des  Ursins.  Madame  des 
Ursins  offered,  in  fact,  to  be  the  instrument  of  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon;  representing  how  much  better  it 
would  be  to  rule  affairs  in  this  manner,  than  through 
the  instrumentality  of  the  ministers  of  either  country. 

Madame  de  Maintenon,  whose  passion  it  was  to 
know  everything,  to  mix  herself  in  everything,  and 
to  govern  everything,  was  enchanted  by  the  siren. 
This  method  of  governing  Spain  without  ministers 
appeared  to  her  an  admirable  idea.  She  embraced  it 
with  avidity,  without  reflecting  that  she  would  govern 
only  in  appearance,  since  she  would  know  nothing 
except  through  the  Princesse  des  Ursins,  see  nothing 
except  in  the  light  in  which  she  presented  it.  From 
that  time  dates  the  intimate  union  which  existed  be- 
tween these  two  important  women,  the  unbounded 
authority  of  Madame  des  Ursins,  the  fall  of  all  those 
who  had  placed  Philip  V.  upon  the  throne,  and  of  all 
our  ministers  in  Spain  who  stood  in  the  way  of  the 
new  power. 

Such  an  alliance  being  made  between  the  two 
women,  it  was  necessary  to  draw  the  King  of  Spain 
into  the  same  net.  This  was  not  a  very  arduous  task. 
Nature  and  art  indeed  had  combined  to  make  it  easy. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  337 

Younger  brother  of  an  excitable,  violent,  and  robust 
Prince,  Philip  V.  had  been  bred  up  in  a  submission 
and  dependence  that  were  necessary  for  the  repose  of 
the  Royal  family.  Until  the  testament  of  Charles  II., 
the  Due  d'Anjou  was  necessarily  regarded  as  destined 
to  be  a  subject  all  his  life;  and  therefore  could  not  be 
too  much  abased  by  education,  and  trained  to  patience 
and  obedience.  That  supreme  law,  the  reason  of 
state,  demanded  this  preference,  for  the  safety  and 
happiness  of  the  kingdom,  of  the  elder  over  the 
younger  brother.  His  mind  for  this  reason  was  pur- 
posely narrowed  and  beaten  down,  and  his  natural  do- 
cility and  gentleness  greatly  assisted  in  the  process. 
He  was  quite  formed  to  be  led,  although  he  had  enough 
judgment  left  to  choose  the  better  of  two  courses  pro- 
posed to  him,  and  even  to  express  himself  in  good 
phrase,  when  the  slowness,  not  to  say  the  laziness,  of 
his  mind  did  not  prevent  him  from  speaking  at  all. 
His  great  piety  contributed  to  weaken  his  mind;  and, 
being  joined  to  very  lively  passions,  made  it  disagree- 
able and  even  dangerous  for  him  to  be  separated  from 
his  Queen.  It  may  easily  be  conceived,  therefore,  how 
he  loved  her,  and  that  he  allowed  himself  to  be  guided 
by  her  in  all  things.  As  the  Queen  herself  was  guided 
in  all  things  by  Madame  des  Ursins,  the  influence  of 
this  latter  was  all-powerful. 

Soon,  indeed,  the  Junta  became  a  mere  show. 
Everything  was  brought  before  the  King  in  private, 
and  he  gave  no  decision  until  the  Queen  and  Madame 
des  Ursins  had  passed  theirs.  This  conduct  met  with 
no  opposition  from  our  Court,  but  our  ministers  at 
the  Court  of  Spain  and  the  Spanish  ministers  here  soon 
began  to  complain  of  it.  The  first  to  do  so  were 
Cardinals  d'Estrees  and  Portocarrero.  Madame  de 
Maintenon  laughed  at  them,  and  Madame  des  Ursins, 
of  whom  they  were  old  friends,  soon  showed  them 


338  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

that  she  did  not  mean  to  abate  one  jot  of  her  power. 
She  first  endeavoured  to  bring  about  a  coldness  be- 
tween the  two,  and  this  succeeded  so  well,  that  in  con- 
sequence of  the  quarrels  that  resulted,  the  Spanish 
Cardinal,  Portocarrero  (who,  it  will  be  remembered, 
had  played  an  important  part  in  bringing  Philip  to 
the  Spanish  throne)  wished  to  quit  the  Junta.  But 
Madame  des  Ursins,  who  thought  that  the  time  had 
not  yet  arrived  for  this  step,  persuaded  him  to  remain, 
and  endeavoured  to  flatter  his  vanity  by  an  expedient 
altogether  ridiculous.  She  gave  him  the  command  of 
a  regiment  of  guards,  and  he,  priest,  archbishop,  pri- 
mate and  cardinal,  accepted  it,  and  was,  of  course,  well 
laughed  at  by  everybody  for  his  pains.  The  two  cardi- 
nals soon  after  became  reconciled  to  each  other,  feel- 
ing, perhaps,  the  necessity  of  uniting  against  the 
common  enemy.  But  they  could  come  to  no  better 
understanding  with  her.  Disagreements  continued, 
so  that  at  last,  feeling  her  position  perfectly  secure, 
the  Princesse  des  Ursins  begged  permission  to  retire 
into  Italy,  knowing  full  well  that  she  would  not  be 
taken  at  her  word,  and  hoping  by  this  means  to  de- 
liver herself  of  these  stumbling-blocks  in  her  path. 

Our  ministers,  who  felt  they  would  lose  all  control 
over  Spanish  affairs  if  Madame  des  Ursins  was  al- 
lowed to  remain  mistress,  did  all  in  their  power  to 
support  the  D'Estrees.  But  Madame  de  Maintenon 
pleaded  so  well  with  the  King,  representing  the  good 
policy  of  allowing  a  woman  so  much  attached  to  him, 
and  to  the  Spanish  Queen,  as  was  Madame  des  Ursins, 
to  remain  where  she  was,  that  he  entirely  swallowed 
the  bait;  the  D'Estrees  were  left  without  support;  the 
French  ambassador  at  Madrid  was  virtually  deprived 
of  all  power:  the  Spanish  ministers  were  fettered  in 
their  every  movement,  and  the  authority  of  Madame 
des  Ursins  became   stronger   than  ever.     All  public 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  339 

affairs  passed  through  her  hands.  The  King  decided 
nothing  without  conferring  with  the  Queen  and  her. 

While  excluding  almost  all  the  ministers  from  pub- 
lic offices,  Madame  des  Ursins  admitted  a  few  fa- 
vourites into  her  confidence.  Amongst  them  was 
D'Harcourt,  who  stood  well  with  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon,  and  who  cared  little  for  the  means  by  which 
he  obtained  consideration;  Orry,  who  had  the  manage- 
ment of  the  finances;  and  D'Aubigny,  son  of  a  Pro- 
cureur  in  Paris.  The  last  was  a  tall,  handsome  fel- 
low, well  made,  and  active  in  mind  and  body;  who 
for  many  years  had  been  with  the  Princess,  as  a  sort 
of  squire,  and  on  very  intimate  terms  with  her.  One 
day,  when,  followed  by  some  of  the  ministers,  she 
entered  a  room  in  which  he  was  writing,  he  burst  out 
into  exclamations  against  her,  without  being  aware 
that  she  was  not  alone,  swore  at  her,  asked  her  why 
she  could  not  leave  him  an  hour  in  peace,  called  her 
by  the  strangest  names,  and  all  this  with  so  much 
impetuosity  that  she  had  no  time  to  show  him  who 
were  behind  her.  When  he  found  it  out,  he  ran  from 
the  room,  leaving  Madame  des  Ursins  so  confused  that 
the  ministers  looked  for  two  or  three  minutes  upon 
the  walls  of  the  room  in  order  to  give  her  time  to 
recover  herself.  Soon  after  this,  D'Aubigny  had  a 
splendid  suite  of  apartments,  that  had  formerly  been 
occupied  by  Maria  Theresa  (afterwards  wife  of  Louis 
XIV.),  placed  at  his  disposal,  with  some  rooms  added, 
in  despite  of  the  murmurs  that  arose  at  a  distinction 
so  strange  accorded  to  this  favourite. 

At  length,  Cardinal  d'Estrees,  continually  in  arms 
against  Madame  des  Ursins,  and  continually  defeated, 
could  not  bear  his  position  any  longer,  but  asked  to  be 
immediately  recalled.  All  that  the  ministry  could  do 
was  to  obtain  permission  for  the  Abbe  d'Estrees 
(nephew  of  the  Cardinal)  to  remain  as  Ambassador  of 


340  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

France  at  Madrid.  As  for  Portocarrero,  seeing  the 
step  his  associate  had  taken,  he  resolved  to  quit  public 
business  also,  and  resigned  his  place  accordingly.  Sev- 
eral others  who  stood  in  the  way  of  the  Princesse  des 
Ursins  were  got  rid  of  at  the  same  time,  so  that  she 
was  now  left  mistress  of  the  field.  She  governed  abso- 
lutely in  all  things;  the  ministers  became  instruments 
in  her  hands;  the  King  and  Queen  agents  to  work  out 
her  will.  She  was  at  the  highest  pinnacle  of  power. 
Together  with  Orry  she  enjoyed  a  power  such  as  no 
one  had  ever  attained  since  the  time  of  the  Duke  of 
Lerma  and  of  Olivares. 

In  the  mean  time  the  Archduke  was  declared  King 
of  Spain  by  the  Emperor,  who  made  no  mystery  of 
his  intention  of  attacking  Spain  by  way  of  Portugal. 
The  Archduke  soon  afterwards  was  recognised  by  Hol- 
land, England,  Portugal,  Brandenburg,  Savoy,  and 
Hanover,  as  King  of  Spain,  under  the  title  of  Charles 
III.,  and  soon  after  by  the  other  powers  of  Europe. 
The  Duke  of  Savoy  had  been  treacherous  to  us,  had 
shown  that  he  was  in  league  with  the  Emperor.  The 
King  accordingly  had  broken  off  all  relations  with  him, 
and  sent  an  army  to  invade  his  territory.  It  need  be 
no  cause  of  surprise,  therefore,  that  the  Archduke  was 
recognised  by  Savoy.  While  our  armies  were  fighting 
with  varied  fortune  those  of  the  Emperor  and  his  al- 
lies, in  different  parts  of  Europe,  notably  upon  the 
Rhine,  Madame  des  Ursins  was  pressing  matters  to  ex- 
tremities in  Spain.  Dazzled  by  her  success  in  expelling 
the  two  cardinals  from  public  affairs,  and  all  the  min- 
isters who  had  assisted  in  placing  Philip  V.  upon  the 
throne,  she  committed  a  blunder  of  which  she  soon 
had  cause  to  repent. 

I  have  said,  that  when  Cardinal  d'Estrees  quitted 
Spain,  the  Abbe  d'Estrees  was  left  behind,  so  that 
France  should  not  be  altogether  unrepresented  in  an 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  341 

official  manner  at  the  Court  of  Madrid.  Madame  des 
Ursins  did  not  like  this  arrangement,  but  as  Madame 
de  Maintenon  insisted  upon  it,  she  was  obliged  to 
accept  it  with  as  good  grace  as  possible.  The  Abbe, 
vain  of  his  family  and  of  his  position,  was  not  a  man 
much  to  be  feared  as  it  seemed.  Madame  des  Ursins 
accordingly  laughed  at  and  despised  him.  He  was 
admitted  to  the  council,  but  was  quite  without  influ- 
ence there,  and  when  he  attempted  to  make  any  repre- 
sentations to  Madame  des  Ursins  or  to  Orry,  they 
listened  to  him  without  attending  in  the  least  to  what 
he  said.  The  Princess  reigned  supreme,  and  thought 
of  nothing  but  getting  rid  of  all  who  attempted  to 
divide  her  authority.  At  last  she  obtained  such  a 
command  over  the  poor  Abbe  d'Estrees,  so  teased  and 
hampered  him,  that  he  consented  to  the  hitherto 
unheard-of  arrangement,  that  the  Ambassador  of 
France  should  not  write  to  the  King  without  first  con- 
certing his  letter  with  her,  and  then  show  her  its  con- 
tents before  he  despatched  it.  But  such  restraint  as 
this  became,  in  a  short  time,  so  fettering,  that  the 
Abbe  determined  to  break  away  from  it.  He  wrote  a 
letter  to  the  King,  without  showing  it  to  Madame  des 
Ursins.  She  soon  had  scent  of  what  he  had  done; 
seized  the  letter  as  it  passed  through  the  post,  opened 
it,  and,  as  she  expected,  found  its  contents  were  not 
of  a  kind  to  give  her  much  satisfaction.  But  what 
piqued  her  most  was,  to  find  details  exaggerating  the 
authority  of  D'Aubigny,  and  a  statement  to  the  effect 
that  it  was  generally  believed  she  had  married  him. 
Beside  herself  with  rage  and  vexation,  she  wrote  with 
her  own  hand  upon  the  margin  of  the  letter,  Pour 
mariee  non  ("At  any  rate,  not  married"),  showed  it 
in  this  state  to  the  King  and  Queen  of  Spain,  to  a 
number  of  other  people,  always  with  strange  clamour- 
ing, and  finally  crowned  her  folly  by  sending  it  to 


342  DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON 

the  King  (Louis  XIV.),  with  furious  complaints 
against  the  Abbe  for  writing  it  without  her  knowledge, 
and  for  inflicting  upon  her  such  an  atrocious  injury  as 
to  mention  this  pretended  marriage.  Her  letter  and 
its  enclosure  reached  the  King  at  a  very  inopportune 
moment.  Just  before,  he  had  received  a  letter,  which, 
taken  in  connection  with  this  of  the  Princesse  des  Ur- 
sins,  struck  a  blow  at  her  power  of  the  most  decisive 
kind. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

SOME  little  time  previously  it  had  been  thought 
necessary  to  send  an  army  to  the  frontiers  of 
Portugal  to  oppose  the  Archduke.  A  French 
general  was  wanted  to  command  this  army.  Madame 
des  Ursins,  who  had  been  very  intimate  with  the  King 
of  England  (James  II.)  and  his  Queen,  thought  she 
would  please  them  if  she  gave  this  post  to  the  Duke 
of  Berwick,  illegitimate  son  of  King  James.  She 
proposed  this  therefore;  and  our  King,  out  of  regard 
for  his  brother  monarch,  and  from  a  natural  affection 
for  bastards,  consented  to  the  appointment;  but  as  the 
Duke  of  Berwick  had  never  before  commanded  an 
army,  he  stipulated  that  Puysegur,  known  to  be  a  skil- 
ful officer,  should  go  with  him  and  assist  him  with  his 
counsels  and  advice. 

Puysegur  set  out  before  the  Duke  of  Berwick.  From 
the  Pyrenees  as  far  as  Madrid,  he  found  every  provi- 
sion made  for  the  subsistence  of  the  French  troops, 
and  sent  a  very  advantageous  account  to  the  King 
of  this  circumstance.  Arrived  at  Madrid,  he  had  in- 
terviews with  Orry  (who,  as  I  have  already  mentioned, 
had  the  finances  under  his  control,  and  who  was  a 
mere  instrument  in  the  hands  of  Madame  des  Ursins), 
and  was  assured  by  the  minister  that  all  the  magazines 
along  the  line  of  route  to  the  frontiers  of  Portugal 
were  abundantly  filled  with  supplies  for  the  French 
troops,  that  all  the  money  necessary  was  ready,  and 
that  nothing,  in  fact,  should  fail  in  the  course  of  the 
campaign.  Puysegur,  who  had  found  nothing  wanting 
up  to  that  time,  never  doubted  but  that  these  state- 

343 


344  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

ments  were  perfectly  correct;  and  had  no  suspicion  that 
a  minister  would  have  the  effrontery  to  show  him  in 
detail  all  these  precautions  if  he  had  taken  none. 
Pleased,  then,  to  the  utmost  degree,  he  wrote  to  the 
King  in  praise  of  Orry,  and  consequently  of  Madame 
des  Ursins  and  her  wise  government.  Full  of  these 
ideas,  he  set  out  for  the  frontier  of  Portugal  to  recon- 
noitre the  ground  himself,  and  arrange  everything  for 
the  arrival  of  the  army  and  its  general.  What  was  his 
surprise,  when  he  found  that  from  Madrid  to  the 
frontier  not  a  single  preparation  had  been  made  for 
the  troops,  and  that  in  consequence  all  that  Orry  had 
shown  him,  drawn  out  upon  paper,  was  utterly  ficti- 
tious. His  vexation  upon  finding  that  nothing  upon 
which  he  had  reckoned  was  provided,  may  be  imag- 
ined. He  at  once  wrote  to  the  King,  in  order  to  con- 
tradict all  that  he  had  recently  written. 

This  conduct  of  Orry — his  impudence,  I  may  say — 
in  deceiving  a  man  who  immediately  after  would  have 
under  his  eyes  the  proof  of  his  deceit,  is  a  thing  past 
all  comprehension.  It  is  easy  to  understand  that 
rogues  should  steal,  but  not  that  they  should  have  the 
audacity  to  do  so  in  the  face  of  facts  which  so  quickly 
and  so  easily  could  prove  their  villainy. 

It  was  Puysegur's  letter  then,  detailing  this  rascality 
on  the  part  of  Orry,  that  had  reached  the  King  just 
before  that  respecting  the  Abbe  d'Estrees.  The  two 
disclosed  a  state  of  things  that  could  not  be  allowed 
any  longer  to  exist.  Our  ministers,  who,  step  by  step, 
had  been  deprived  of  all  control  over  the  affairs  of 
Spain,  profited  by  the  discontentment  of  the  King  to 
reclaim  their  functions.  Harcourt  and  Madame  de 
Maintenon  did  all  they  could  to  ward  off  the  blow 
from  Madame  des  Ursins,  but  without  effect.  The 
King  determined  to  banish  her  to  Rome  and  to  dis- 
miss Orry  from  his  post. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  345 

It  was  felt,  however,  that  these  steps  must  be  taken 
cautiously,  to  avoid  offending  too  deeply  the  King  and 
Queen  of  Spain,  who  supported  their  favourite  through 
every  emergency. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  a  simple  reprimand  was  sent 
to  the  Princesse  des  Ursins  for  the  violation  of  the  re- 
spect due  to  the  King,  by  opening  a  letter  addressed 
to  him  by  one  of  his  ambassadors.  The  Abbe  d'Es- 
trees,  who  expected  that  Madame  des  Ursins  would  be 
at  once  disgraced,  and  who  had  made  a  great  outcry 
when  his  letter  was  opened,  fell  into  such  despair 
when  he  saw  how  lightly  she  was  let  off,  that  he  asked 
for  his  dismissal.  He  was  taken  at  his  word ;  and  this 
was  a  new  triumph  for  Madame  des  Ursins,  who 
thought  herself  more  secure  than  ever.  Her  triumph 
was  of  but  short  duration.  The  King  wrote  to  Philip, 
recommending  him  to  head  in  person  the  army  for 
the  frontiers  of  Portugal,  which,  in  spite  of  Orry's  de- 
ception, it  was  still  determined  to  send.  No  sooner 
was  Philip  fairly  away,  separated  from  the  Queen  and 
Madame  des  Ursins,  and  no  longer  under  their  influ- 
ence, than  the  King  wrote  to  the  Queen  of  Spain,  re- 
questing her,  in  terms  that  could  not  be  disputed,  to 
dismiss  at  once  and  for  ever  her  favourite  Camerera 
Mayor.  The  Queen,  in  despair  at  the  idea  of  losing 
a  friend  and  adviser  to  whom  she  had  been  so  much 
attached,  believed  herself  lost.  At  the  same  time  that 
the  King  wrote  to  the  Queen  of  Spain,  he  also  wrote 
to  the  Princesse  des  Ursins,  ordering  her  to  quit  Ma- 
drid immediately,  to  leave  Spain,  and  to  retire  into 
Italy. 

At  this  conjuncture  of  affairs,  when  the  Queen  was 
in  despair,  Madame  des  Ursins  did  not  lose  her  com- 
posure. She  opened  her  eyes  to  all  that  had  passed 
since  she  had  violated  D'Estrees'  letter,  and  saw  the 
vanity  of  the  triumph  she  had  recently  enjoyed.     She 


346  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

felt  at  once  that  for  the  present  all  was  lost,  that  her 
only  hope  was  to  be  allowed  to  remain  in  France.  She 
made  all  her  arrangements,  therefore,  so  that  affairs 
might  proceed  in  her  absence  as  much  as  possible  as 
though  she  were  present,  and  then  prepared  to  set  out. 
Dawdling  day  by  day,  she  put  off  her  departure  as 
long  as  could  be,  and  when  at  length  she  left  Madrid 
only  went  to  Alcala,  a  few  leagues  distant.  She 
stopped  there  under  various  pretexts,  and  at  length, 
after  five  weeks  of  delay,  set  out  for  Bayonne,  jour- 
neying as  slowly  as  she  could  and  stopping  as  often 
as  she  dared. 

She  lost  no  opportunity  of  demanding  an  audience 
at  Versailles,  in  order  to  clear  herself  of  the  charge 
which  weighed  upon  her,  and  her  importunities  at 
length  were  not  without  effect.  The  most  terrible 
storms  at  Court  soon  blow  over.  The  King  (Louis 
XIV.)  was  satisfied  with  the  success  of  his  plans.  He 
had  been  revenged  in  every  way,  and  had  humbled  the 
pride  of  the  Princesse  des  Ursins.  It  was  not  neces- 
sary to  excite  the  anger  of  the  Queen  and  King  of 
Spain  by  too  great  harshness  against  their  fallen 
friend.  Madame  de  Maintenon  took  advantage  of 
this  change  in  the  temper  of  the  King,  and  by  dint  of 
persuasion  and  scheming  succeeded  in  obtaining  from 
him  the  permission  for  Madame  des  Ursins  to  remain 
in  France.  Toulouse  was  fixed  upon  for  her  resi- 
dence. It  was  a  place  that  just  suited  her,  and  from 
which  communication  with  Spain  was  easy.  Here  ac- 
cordingly she  took  up  her  residence,  determined  to 
watch  well  the  course  of  events,  and  to  avail  herself 
of  every  opportunity  that  could  bring  about  her  com- 
plete reconciliation  with  the  King  (Louis  XIV.),  and 
obtain  for  her  in  consequence  the  permission  to  return 
to  Madrid. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  King  and  Queen  of  Spain, 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  347 

distressed  beyond  measure  at  the  loss  of  their  fa- 
vourite, thought  only  of  the  best  means  of  obtaining 
her  recall.  They  plotted  with  such  ministers  as  were 
favourable  to  her;  they  openly  quarrelled  with  and 
thwarted  those  who  were  her  opponents,  so  that  the 
most  important  matters  perished  in  their  hands.  Nay 
more,  upon  the  King  of  Spain's  return,  the  Queen  per- 
suaded him  to  oppose  in  all  things  the  wishes  of  the 
King  (Louis  XIV.),  his  grandfather,  and  to  neglect 
his  counsels  with  studied  care.  Our  King  complained 
of  this  with  bitterness.  The  aim  of  it  was  to  tire 
him  out,  and  to  make  him  understand  that  it  was  only 
Madame  des  Ursins,  well  treated  and  sent  back,  who 
could  restore  Spanish  affairs  to  their  original  state, 
and  cause  his  authority  to  be  respected.  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  on  her  side,  neglected  no  opportunity  of 
pressing  the  King  to  allow  Madame  des  Ursins,  not  to 
return  into  Spain — that  would  have  been  to  spoil  all 
by  asking  too  much — but  simply  to  come  to  Versailles 
in  order  to  have  the  opportunity  of  justifying  herself 
for  her  past  conduct.  From  other  quarters  the  King 
was  similarly  importuned.  Tired  at  last  of  the  obsti- 
nate opposition  he  met  with  in  Spain  from  the  Queen, 
who  governed  completely  her  husband,  he  gave  per- 
mission to  Madame  des  Ursins  to  come  to  Versailles 
to  plead  her  own  cause.  Self-imprisoned  as  he  was 
in  seclusion,  the  truth  never  approached  him,  and  he 
was  the  only  man  in  the  two  kingdoms  who  had  no 
suspicion  that  the  arrival  of  Madame  des  Ursins  at 
the  Court  was  the  certain  sign  of  her  speedy  return 
to  Spain  more  powerful  than  ever.  But  he  was  fa- 
tigued with  the  constant  resistance  he  met  with;  with 
the  disorder  which  this  occasioned  in  public  affairs  at 
a  time  too  when,  as  I  will  afterwards  explain,  the 
closest  union  was  necessary  between  the  two  crowns 
in  order  to  repel  the  common  enemy,  and  these  mo- 


348  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

tives  induced  him,  to  the  astonishment  of  his  ministers, 
to  grant  the  favour  requested  of  him. 

However  well  informed  Madame  des  Ursins  might 
be  of  all  that  was  being  done  on  her  account,  this  per- 
mission surpassed  her  hopes.  Her  joy  accordingly 
was  very  great;  but  it  did  not  at  all  carry  her  away. 
She  saw  that  her  return  to  Spain  would  now  depend 
upon  herself.  She  determined  to  put  on  the  air  of 
one  who  is  disgraced,  but  who  hopes,  and  yet  is  hu- 
miliated. She  instructed  all  her  friends  to  assume  the 
same  manner;  took  all  measures  with  infinite  presence 
of  mind;  did  not  hurry  her  departure,  and  yet  set  out 
with  sufficient  promptness  to  prevent  any  coldness 
springing  up,  and  to  show  with  what  eagerness  she 
profited  by  the  favour  accorded  to  her,  and  which  she 
had  so  much  wished. 

No  sooner  was  the  courier  gone  who  carried  this 
news  to  her,  than  the  rumour  of  her  return  was  whis- 
pered all  over  the  Court,  and  became  publicly  con- 
firmed a  few  days  afterwards.  The  movement  that 
it  produced  at  Court  was  inconceivable.  Only  the 
friends  of  Madame  des  Ursins  were  able  to  remain  in 
a  tolerably  tranquil  state.  Everybody  opened  his  eyes 
and  comprehended  that  the  return  of  such  an  important 
personage  was  a  fact  that  could  not  be  insignificant. 
People  prepared  themselves  for  a  sort  of  rising  sun 
that  was  going  to  change  and  renew  many  things  in 
nature.  On  every  side  were  seen  people  who  had 
scarcely  ever  uttered  her  name,  and  who  now  boasted 
of  their  intimacy  with  her  and  of  her  friendship  for 
them.  Other  people  were  seen,  who,  although  openly 
allied  with  her  enemies,  had  the  baseness  to  affect 
transports  of  joy  at  her  forthcoming  return,  and  to 
flatter  those  whom  they  thought  likely  to  favour  them 
with  her. 

She  reached  Paris  on  Sunday,  the  4th  of  January, 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  349 

1705.  The  Due  d'Albe  met  her  several  miles  out  of 
the  city,  escorted  her  to  his  house,  and  gave  a  fete  in 
her  honour  there.  Several  persons  of  distinction  went 
out  to  meet  her.  Madame  des  Ursins  had  reason  to 
be  surprised  at  an  entry  so  triumphant :  she  would  not, 
however,  stay  with  the  Due  and  Duchesse  d'Albe,  but 
took  up  her  quarters  with  the  Comtesse  d'Egmont, 
niece  of  the  Archbishop  of  Aix;  the  said  Archbishop 
having  been  instrumental  in  obtaining  her  recall.  The 
King  was  at  Marly.  I  was  there  with  Madame  de 
Saint-Simon.  During  the  remainder  of  the  stay  at 
Marly  everybody  flocked  to  the  house  of  Madame  des 
Ursins,  anxious  to  pay  her  their  court.  However  flat- 
tered she  may  have  been  by  this  concourse,  she  had 
matters  to  occupy  her,  pleaded  want  of  repose,  and 
shut  her  door  to  three  people  out  of  four  who  called 
upon  her.  Curiosity,  perhaps  fashion,  drew  this  great 
crowd  to  her.  The  ministers  were  startled  by  it. 
Torcy  had  orders  from  the  King  to  go  and  see  her :  he 
did  so;  and  from  that  moment  Madame  des  Ursins 
changed  her  tone.  Until  then  her  manner  had  been 
modest,  supplicating,  nearly  timid.  She  now  saw  and 
heard  so  much  that  from  defendant,  which  she  had 
intended  to  be,  she  thought  herself  in  a  condition  to 
become  accuser;  and  to  demand  justice  of  those  who, 
abusing  the  confidence  of  the  King,  had  drawn  upon 
her  such  a  long  and  cruel  punishment,  and  made  her 
a  show  for  the  two  kingdoms.  All  that  happened  to 
her  surpassed  her  hopes.  Several  times  when  with  me 
she  has  expressed  her  astonishment;  and  with  me  has 
laughed  at  many  people,  often  of  much  consideration, 
whom  she  scarcely  knew,  or  who  had  been  strongly 
opposed  to  her,  and  who  basely  crouched  at  her  feet. 

The  King  returned  to  Versailles  on  Saturday,  the 
10th  of  January.  Madame  des  Ursins  arrived  there 
the  same  day.     I  went  immediately  to  see  her,  not 


350  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

having  been  able  to  do  so  before,  because  I  could  not 
quit  Marly.  My  mother  had  seen  a  great  deal  of 
Madame  des  Ursins  at  Paris.  I  had  always  been  on 
good  terms  with  her,  and  had  received  on  all  occa- 
sions proofs  of  her  friendship.  She  received  me  very 
well,  spoke  with  much  freedom,  and  said  she  prom- 
ised herself  the  pleasure  of  seeing  me  again,  and  of 
talking  with  me  more  at  her  ease.  On  the  morrow, 
Sunday,  she  dined  at  home  alone,  dressed  herself  in 
grand  style,  and  went  to  the  King,  with  whom  she 
remained  alone  two  hours  and  a  half  conversing  in 
his  cabinet.  From  there  she  went  to  the  Duchesse  de 
Bourgogne,  with  whom  she  also  conversed  a  long  time 
alone.  In  the  evening,  the  King  said,  while  in  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon's  apartments,  that  there  were  still 
many  things  upon  which  he  had  not  yet  spoken  to 
Madame  des  Ursins.  The  next  day  she  saw  Madame 
de  Maintenon  in  private  for  a  long  time,  and  much 
at  her  ease.  She  had  an  interview  soon  after  with 
the  King  and  Madame  de  Maintenon,  which  was  also 
very  long. 

A  month  after  this  a  special  courier  arrived  from 
the  King  and  Queen  of  Spain,  to  thank  the  King 
(Louis  XIV.)  for  his  conduct  towards  the  Princesse 
des  Ursins.  From  that  moment  it  was  announced  that 
she  would  remain  at  Court  until  the  month  of  April, 
in  order  to  attend  to  her  affairs  and  her  health.  It 
was  already  to  have  made  a  grand  step  to  be  mistress 
enough  to  announce  thus  her  stay.  Nobody  in  truth 
doubted  of  her  return  to  Spain,  but  the  word  was  not 
yet  said.  She  avoided  all  explanations,  and  it  may  be 
believed  did  not  have  many  indiscreet  questions  put 
to  her  upon  the  subject. 

So  many  and  such  long  audiences  with  the  King, 
followed  by  so  much  serenity,  had  a  great  effect  upon 
the  world,  and  the  crowd  that  flocked  to  see  Madame 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  351 

des  Ursins  was  greater  than  ever;  but  under  various 
pretences  she  shut  herself  up  and  would  see  only  a  few 
intimate  friends,  foremost  among  which  were  Madame 
de  Saint-Simon  and  myself.  Whilst  triumphant  be- 
yond all  her  hopes  in  Paris,  she  was  at  work  in  Spain, 
and  with  equal  success.  Rivas,  who  had  drawn  up  the 
will  of  the  late  King  Charles  II.,  was  disgraced,  and 
never  afterwards  rose  to  favour.  The  Due  de  Gram- 
mont,  our  ambassador  at  Madrid,  was  so  over- 
whelmed with  annoyance,  that  he  asked  for  his  recall. 
Amelot,  whom  Madame  des  Ursins  favoured,  was 
appointed  in  his  place,  and  many  who  had  been  dis- 
graced were  reinstated  in  office;  everything  was  or- 
dered according  to  her  wishes. 

We  returned  to  Marly,  where  many  balls  took  place. 
It  need  not  be  doubted  that  Madame  des  Ursins  was 
among  the  invited.  Apartments  were  given  her,  and 
nothing  could  equal  the  triumphant  air  with  which 
she  took  possession  of  them,  the  continual  attentions 
of  the  King  to  her,  as  though  she  were  some  little  for- 
eign queen  just  arrived  at  his  Court,  or  the  majestic 
fashion  in  which  she  received  them,  mingled  with  grace 
and  respectful  politeness,  then  almost  out  of  date,  and 
which  recalled  the  stately  old  dames  of  the  Queen- 
mother.  She  never  came  without  the  King,  who  ap- 
peared to  be  completely  occupied  with  her,  talking 
with  her,  pointing  out  objects  for  her  inspection,  seek- 
ing her  opinion  and  her  approbation  with  an  air  of 
gallantry,  even  of  flattery,  which  never  ceased.  The 
frequent  private  conversations  that  she  had  with  him 
in  the  apartment  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  which 
lasted  an  hour,  and  sometimes  double  that  time;  those 
that  she  very  often  had  in  the  morning  alone  with 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  rendered  her  the  divinity  of 
the  Court.  The  Princesses  encircled  her  the  moment 
she  appeared  anywhere,  and  went  to  see  her  in  her 


352  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

chamber.  Nothing  was  more  surprising  than  the  ser- 
vile eagerness  with  which  the  greatest  people,  the  high- 
est in  power  and  the  most  in  favour,  clustered  around 
her.  Her  very  glances  were  counted,  and  her  words, 
addressed  even  to  ladies  of  the  highest  rank,  imprinted 
upon  them  a  look  of  ravishment. 

I  went  nearly  every  morning  to  her  house :  she  al- 
ways rose  very  early,  dressed  herself  at  once,  so  that 
she  was  never  seen  at  her  toilette.  I  was  in  advance 
of  the  hour  fixed  for  the  most  important  visitors,  and 
we  talked  with  the  same  liberty  as  of  yore.  I  learnt 
from  her  many  details,  and  the  opinion  of  the  King 
and  of  Madame  de  Maintenon  upon  many  people.  We 
often  used  to  laugh  in  concert  at  the  truckling  to  her 
of  persons  the  most  considerable,  and  of  the  disdain 
they  drew  upon  themselves,  although  she  did  not  tes- 
tify it  to  them.  We  laughed  too  at  the  falsehood  of 
others,  who  after  having  done  her  all  the  injury  in 
their  power  ever  since  her  arrival,  lavished  upon  her 
all  kinds  of  flatteries,  and  boasted  of  their  affection  for 
her  and  of  zeal  in  her  cause.  I  was  flattered  with  this 
confidence  of  the  dictatress  of  the  Court.  It  drew  upon 
me  a  sudden  consideration;  for  people  of  the  greatest 
distinction  often  found  me  alone  with  her  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  the  messengers  who  rained  down  at  that  time 
reported  that  they  had  found  me  with  her,  and  that 
they  had  not  been  able  to  speak  to  her.  Oftentimes 
in  the  salon  she  called  me  to  her,  or  at  other  times  I 
went  to  her  and  whispered  a  word  in  her  ear,  with  an 
air  of  ease  and  liberty  much  envied  but  little  imitated. 
She  never  met  Madame  de  Saint-Simon  without  going 
to  her,  praising  her,  making  her  join  in  the  conversa- 
tion that  was  passing  around;  oftentimes  leading  her 
to  the  glass  and  adjusting  her  head-dress  or  her  robe 
as  she  might  have  done  in  private  to  a  daughter.  Peo- 
ple asked  with  surprise  and  much  annoyance  whence 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  353 

came  stic-h  a  great  friendship  which  had  never  been 
suspected  by  anybody?  What  completed  the  torment 
of  the  majo/ity,  was  to  see  Madame  des  Ursins,  as 
soon  as  she  quitted  the  chamber  of  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon,  go  immediately  to  Madame  de  Saint-Simon, 
lead  her  aside,  and  speak  to  her  in  a  low  tone.  This 
opened  the  eyes  of  everybody  and  drew  upon  us  many 
civilities. 

A  more  solid  gratification  to  us  were  the  kind  things 
Madame  des  Ursins  said  in  our  behalf  to  the  King  and 
Madame  de  Maintenon.  She  spoke  in  the  highest 
praise  of  Madame  de  Saint-Simon,  and  declared  that 
there  was  no  woman  at  Court  so  fitting  as  she,  so  ex- 
pressly made  by  her  virtue,  good  conduct,  and  ability, 
to  be  lady  of  the  Palace,  or  even  lady-of-honour  to 
Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  should  the  post 
become  vacant.  Madame  des  Ursins  did  not  forget 
me;  but  a  woman  was  more  susceptible  of  her  praise. 
It  made,  therefore,  all  the  more  impression.  This  kind 
manner  towards  us  did  not  change  during  all  her  stay 
at  Court. 

At  all  the  balls  which  Madame  des  Ursins  attended, 
she  was  treated  with  much  distinction,  and  at  one  she 
obtained  permission  for  the  Due  and  Duchesse  d'Albe 
to  be  present,  but  with  some  little  trouble.  I  say  with 
some  little  trouble,  because  no  ambassador,  no  for- 
eigner, had  ever,  with  one  exception,  been  admitted 
to  Marly.  It  was  a  great  favour,  therefore,  for  Ma- 
dame des  Ursins  to  obtain.  The  King,  too,  treated  the 
Due  and  Duchesse  d'Albe,  throughout  the  evening 
with  marked  respect,  and  placed  the  latter  in  the  most 
distinguished  position,  not  only  in  the  ball-room  but 
at  supper.  When  he  went  to  bed,  too,  he  gave  the  Due 
d'Albe  his  candlestick;  an  honour  the  importance  of 
which  I  have  already  described. 

At  the  other  balls  Madame  des  Ursins  seated  her- 


354  DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON 

self  near  the  Grand  Chamberlain,  and  looked  at  every- 
body with  her  lorgnette.  At  every  moment  the  King 
turned  round  to  speak  to  her  and  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon,  who  came  for  half  an  hour  or  so  to  these  balls, 
and  on  her  account  displaced  the  Grand  Chamberlain, 
who  put  himself  behind  her.  In  this  manner  she  joined 
Madame  des  Ursins,  and  was  close  to  the  King — the 
conversation  between  the  three  being  continual.  What 
appeared  extremely  singular  was  to  see  Madame  des 
Ursins  in  the  salon  with  a  little  spaniel  in  her  arms, 
as  though  she  had  been  in  her  own  house.  People 
could  not  sufficiently  express  their  astonishment  at 
a  familiarity  which  even  Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne  would  not  have  dared  to  venture;  still  less  could 
they  do  so  when  they  saw  the  King  caress  this  little 
dog  over  and  over  again.  In  fine,  such  a  high  flight 
has  never  been  seen.  People  could  not  accustom  them- 
selves to  it,  and  those  who  knew  the  King  and  his 
Court  are  surprised  still,  when  they  think  of  it,  after 
so  many  years.  There  was  no  longer  any  doubt  that 
Madame  des  Ursins  would  return  into  Spain.  All  her 
frequent  private  conversations  with  the  King  and  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon  were  upon  that  country.  I  will 
only  add  here  that  her  return  took  place  in  due 
time;  and  that  her  influence  became  more  paramount 
than  ever. 


o 


o 

s. 


= 

t. 
■— 

3 

73 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

IN  relating  what  happened  to  Madame  des  Ursins 
upon  her  return  to  Spain,  I  have  carried  the  nar- 
rative into  the  year  1705.  It  is  not  necessary  to 
retrace  our  steps.  Towards  the  end  of  1703  Courtin 
died.  He  had  early  shone  at  the  Council,  and  had  been 
made  Intendant  of  Picardy.  M.  de  Chaulnes,  whose 
estates  were  there,  begged  him  to  tax  them  as  lightly  as 
possible.  Courtin,  who  was  a  very  intimate  friend  of 
M.  de  Chaulnes,  complied  with  his  request ;  but  the 
next  year,  in  going  over  his  accounts,  he  found  that  to 
do  a  good  turn  to  M.  de  Chaulnes  he  had  done  an  ill 
turn  to  many  others — that  is  to  say,  he  had  relieved  M. 
de  Chaulnes  at  the  expense  of  other  parishes,  which 
he  had  overcharged.  The  trouble  this  caused  him 
made  him  search  deeply  into  the  matter,  and  he  found 
that  the  wrong  he  had  done  amounted  to  forty  thou- 
sand francs.  Without  a  second  thought  he  paid  back 
this  money,  and  asked  to  be  recalled.  As  he  was  much 
esteemed,  his  request  was  not  at  once  complied  with, 
but  he  represented  so  well  that  he  could  not  pass  his 
life  doing  wrong,  and  unable  to  serve  his  friends,  that 
at  last  what  he  asked  was  granted.  He  afterwards  had 
several  embassies,  went  to  England  as  ambassador,  and 
was  very  successful  in  that  capacity.  I  cannot  quit 
Courtin  without  relating  an  adventure  he  had  one  day 
with  Fieubet,  a  Councillor  of  State  like  himself.  As 
they  were  going  to  Saint  Germain  they  were  stopped  by 
several  men  and  robbed ;  robbery  was  common  in  those 
days,  and  Fieubet  lost  all  he  had  in  his  pockets.  When 
the  thieves  had  left  them,  and  while  Fieubet  was  com- 

VoL   «  Memoirs-L 


356  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

plaining  of  his  misfortune,  Courtin  began  to  applaud 
himself  for  having  saved  his  watch  and  fifty  pistoles 
that  he  had  time  to  slip  into  his  trowsers.  Immedi- 
ately on  hearing  this,  Fieubet  put  his  head  out  of  the 
coach  window,  and  called  back  the  thieves,  who  came 
sure  enough  to  see  what  he  wanted. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  you  appear  to  be  honest 
folks  in  distress;  it  is  not  reasonable  that  you  should 
be  the  dupes  of  this  gentleman,  who  has  swindled  you 
out  of  fifty  pistoles  and  his  watch."  And  then'turning 
to  Courtin,  he  smilingly  said :  "  You  told  me  so  your- 
self, monsieur;  so  give  the  things  up  like  a  man,  with- 
out being  searched." 

The  astonishment  and  indignation  of  Courtin  were 
such  that  he  allowed  money  and  watch  to  be  taken 
from  him  without  uttering  a  single  word ;  but  when  the 
thieves  were  gone  away,  he  would  have  strangled  Fieu- 
bet had  not  this  latter  been  the  stronger  of  the  two. 
Fieubet  only  laughed  at  him;  and  upon  arriving  at 
Saint  Germain  told  the  adventure  to  everybody  he  met. 
Their  friends  had  all  the  trouble  in  the  world  to 
reconcile  them. 

The  year  finished  with  an  affair  in  which  I  was  not 
a  little  interested.  During  the  year  there  were  several 
grand  fetes,  at  which  the  King  went  to  High  Mass  and 
vespers.  On  these  occasions  a  lady  of  the  Court, 
named  by  the  Queen,  or  when  there  was  none,  by  the 
Dauphiness,  made  a  collection  for  the  poor.  The  house 
of  Lorraine,  always  anxious  to  increase  its  importance, 
shirked  impudently  this  duty,  in  order  thereby  to  give 
itself  a  new  distinction,  and  assimilate  its  rank  to  that 
of  the  Princes  of  the  blood.  It  was  a  long  time  be- 
fore this  was  perceived.  At  last  the  Duchesse  de 
Noailles,  the  Duchesse  de  Guiche,  her  daughter,  the 
Marechal  de  BoufHers,  and  others,  took  notice  of  it; 
and  I  was  soon  after  informed  of  it.     I  determined  that 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  '357 

the  matter  should  be  arranged,  and  that  justice  should 
be  done. 

The  Duchesse  de  Lude  was  first  spoken  to  on  the 
subject;  she,  weak  and  timid,  did  not  dare  to  do  any- 
thing; but  at  last  was  induced  to  speak  to  Madame  la 
Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  who,  wishing  to  judge  for 
herself  as  to  the  truth  of  the  matter,  ordered  Madame 
de  Montbazon  to  make  the  collection  for  the  poor  at 
the  next  fete  that  took  place.  Although  very  well, 
Madame  de  Montbazon  pretended  to  be  ill,  stopped 
in  bed  half  a  day,  and  excused  herself  on  this  ground 
from  performing  the  duty.  Madame  de  Bourgogne 
was  annoyed,  but  she  did  not  dare  to  push  matters 
farther;  and,  in  consequence  of  this  refusal,  none  of 
the  Duchesses  would  make  the  collection.  Other  ladies 
of  quality  soon  perceived  this,  and  they  also  refused  to 
serve ;  so  that  the  collection  fell  into  all  sorts  of  hands, 
and  sometimes  was  not  made  at  all.  Matters  went  on 
so  far,  indeed,  that  the  King  at  last  grew  angry,  and 
threatened  to  make  Madame  de  Bourgogne  herself  take 
this  office.  But  refusals  still  followed  upon  refusals, 
and  the  bomb  thus  at  length  was  ready  to  burst ! 

The  King,  who  at  last  ordered  the  daughter  of  M.  le 
Grand  to  take  the  plate  on  New  Year's  Day,  1704, 
had,  it  seems,  got  scent  of  the  part  I  was  taking  in  this 
matter,  and  expressed  himself  to  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon,  as  I  learnt,  as  very  discontented  with  me  and 
one  or  two  other  Dukes.  He  said  that  the  Dukes  were 
much  less  obedient  to  him  than  the  Princes;  and 
that  although  many  Duchesses  had  refused  to  make 
the  collection,  the  moment  he  had  proposed  that  the 
daughter  of  M.  le  Grand  should  take  it,  M.  le  Grand 
consented.  On  the  next  day,  early  in  the  morning,  I 
saw  Chamillart,  who  related  to  me  that  on  the  previous 
evening,  before  he  had  had  time  to  open  his  business, 
the  King  had  burst  out  in  anger  against  me,  saying  it 


358  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

was  very  strange,  but  that  since  I  had  quitted  the  army 
I  did  nothing  but  meddle  in  matters  of  rank  and  bring 
actions  against  everybody;  finishing,  by  declaring  that 
if  he  acted  well  he  should  send  me  so  far  away  that  I 
should  be  unable  to  importune  him  any  more.  Cha- 
millart  added,  that  he  had  done  all  in  his  power  to  ap- 
pease the  King,  but  with  little  effect. 

After  consulting  with  my  friends,  I  determined  to  go 
up  to  the  King  and  boldly  ask  to  speak  to  him  in  his 
cabinet,  believing  that  to  be  the  wisest  course  I  could 
pursue.  He  was  not  yet  so  reconciled  to  me  as  he 
afterwards  became,  and,  in  fact,  was  sorely  out  of  hu- 
mour with  me.  This  step  did  not  seem,  therefore,  al- 
together unattended  with  danger;  but,  as  I  have  said, 
I  resolved  to  take  it.  As  he  passed,  therefore,  from 
his  dinner  that  same  day,  I  asked  permission  to  follow 
him  into  his  cabinet.  Without  replying  to  me,  he 
made  a  sign  that  I  might  enter,  and  went  into  the  em- 
brasure of  the  window. 

When  we  were  quite  alone  I  explained,  at  consider- 
able length,  my  reasons  for  acting  in  this  matter,  de- 
claring that  it  was  from  no  disrespect  to  his  Majesty 
that  I  had  requested  Madame  de  Saint-Simon  and  the 
other  Duchesses  to  refuse  to  collect  for  the  poor,  but 
simply  to  bring  those  to  account  who  had  claimed 
without  reason  to  be  exempt  from  this  duty.  I  added, 
keeping  my  eyes  fixed  upon  the  King  all  the  time,  that 
I  begged  him  to  believe  that  none  of  his  subjects  were 
more  submissive  to  his  will  or  more  willing  to  ac- 
knowledge the  supremacy  of  his  authority  in  all  things 
than  the  Dukes.  Until  this  his  tone  and  manner  had 
been  very  severe;  but  now  they  both  softened,  and  he 
said,  with  much  goodness  and  familiarity,  that  "  that 
was  how  it  was  proper  to  speak  and  think,"  and  other 
remarks  equally  gracious.  I  took  then  the  opportunity 
of  expressing  the  sorrow  I  felt  at  seeing,  that  while 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  359 

my  sole  endeavour  was  to  please  him,  my  enemies  did 
all  they  could  to  blacken  me  in  his  eyes,  indicating  that 
I  suspected  M.  le  Grand,  who  had  never  pardoned  me 
for  the  part  I  took  in  the  affair  of  the  Princesse  d'Har- 
court,  was  one  of  the  number.  After  I  had  finished 
the  King  remained  still  a  moment,  as  if  ready  to  hear 
if  I  had  anything  more  to  say,  and  then  quitted  me 
with  a  bow,  slight  but  very  gracious,  saying  it  was 
well,  and  that  he  was  pleased  with  me. 

I  learnt  afterwards  that  he  said  the  same  thing  of  me 
in  the  evening  to  Chamillart,  but,  nevertheless,  that 
he  did  not  seem  at  all  shaken  in  his  prejudice  in  favour 
of  M.  le  Grand.  The  King  was  in  fact  very  easy  to 
prejudice,  difficult  to  lead  back,  and  most  unwilling 
to  seek  enlightenment,  or  to  listen  to  any  explanations, 
if  authority  was  in  the  slightest  degree  at  stake.  Who- 
ever had  the  address  to  make  a  question  take  this  shape, 
might  be  assured  that  the  King  would  throw  aside  all 
consideration  of  justice,  right,  and  reason,  and  dismiss 
all  evidence.  It  was  by  playing  on  this  chord  that  his 
ministers  knew  how  to  manage  him  with  so  much  art, 
and  to  make  themselves  despotic  masters,  causing  him 
to  believe  all  they  wished,  while  at  the  same  time  they 
rendered  him  inaccessible  to  explanation,  and  to  those 
who  might  have  explained. 

I  have,  perhaps,  too  much  expanded  an  affair  which 
might  have  been  more  compressed.  But  in  addition 
to  the  fact  that  I  was  mixed  up  in  it,  it  is  by  these 
little  private  details,  as  it  seems  to  me,  that  the  charac- 
ters of  the  Court  and  King  are  best  made  known. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  next  year,  1704,  the  King 
made  La  Queue,  who  was  a  captain  of  cavalry,  camp- 
master.  This  La  Queue  was  seigneur  of  the  place  of 
which  he  bore  the  name,  distant  six  leagues  from  Ver- 
sailles, and  as  much  from  Dreux.  He  had  married  a 
girl  that  the  King  had  had  by  a  gardener's  wife.    Bon- 


360  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

terns,  the  confidential  valet  of  the  King,  had  brought 
about  the  marriage  without  declaring  the  names  of  the 
father  or  the  mother  of  the  girl;  but  La  Queue  knew 
it,  and  promised  himself  a  fortune.  The  girl  herself 
was  tall  and  strongly  resembled  the  King.  Unfortu- 
nately for  her,  she  knew  the  secret  of  her  birth,  and 
much  envied  her  three  sisters — recognised,  and  so 
grandly  married.  She  lived  on  very  good  terms  with 
her  husband — always,  however,  in  the  greatest  privacy 
1 — and  had  several  children  by  him.  La  Queue  him- 
self, although  by  this  marriage  son-in-law  of  the  King, 
seldom  appeared  at  the  Court,  and,  when  there,  was 
on  the  same  footing  as  the  simplest  soldier.  Bontems 
did  not  fail  from  time  to  time  to  give  him  money.  The 
wife  of  La  Queue  lived  very  melancholily  for  twenty 
years  in  her  village,  never  left  it,  and  scarcely  ever 
went  abroad  for  fear  of  betraying  herself. 

On  Wednesday,  the  25th  of  June,  Monseigneur  le 
Due  de  Bourgogne  had  a  son  born  to  him.  This  event 
caused  great  joy  to  the  King  and  the  Court.  The  town 
shared  their  delight,  and  carried  their  enthusiasm  al- 
most to  madness,  by  the  excess  of  their  demonstration 
and  their  fetes.  The  King  gave  a  fete  at  Marly,  and 
made  the  most  magnificent  presents  to  Madame  la  Du- 
chesse  de  Bourgogne  when  she  left  her  bed.  But  we 
soon  had  reason  to  repent  of  so  much  joy,  for  the  child 
died  in  less  than  a  year — and  of  so  much  money  un- 
wisely spent  in  fetes  when  it  was  wanted  for  more 
pressing  purposes.  Even  while  these  rejoicings  were 
being  celebrated,  news  reached  us  which  spread  con- 
sternation in  every  family,  and  cast  a  gloom  over  the 
whole  city. 

I  have  already  said  that  a  grand  alliance,  with  the 
Emperor  at  its  head,  had  been  formed  against  France, 
and  that  our  troops  were  opposing  the  Allies  in  various 
parts  of  Europe.     The  Elector  of  Bavaria  had  joined 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  361 

his  forces  to  ours,  and  had  already  done  us  some  ser- 
vice. On  the  1 2th  of  August  he  led  his  men  into  the 
plain  of  Hochstedt,  where,  during  the  previous  year, 
he  had  gained  a  victory  over  the  Imperialists.  In  this 
plain  he  was  joined  by  our  troops,  who  took  up  posi- 
tions right  and  left  of  him,  under  the  command  of  Tal- 
lard  and  Marsin.  The  Elector  himself  had  command 
of  all.  Soon  after  their  arrival  at  Hochstedt,  they  re- 
ceived intelligence  that  Prince  Eugene,  with  the  Im- 
perialist forces,  and  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  with  the 
English  were  coming  to  meet  them.  Our  generals 
had,  however,  all  the  day  before  them  to  choose  their 
ground,  and  to  make  their  dispositions.  It  would  have 
been  difficult  to  succeed  worse,  both  with  the  one  and 
the  other.  A  brook,  by  no  means  of  a  miry  kind,  ran 
parallel  to  our  army ;  and  in  front  of  it  a  spring,  which 
formed  a  long  and  large  quagmire,  nearly  separated 
the  two  lines  of  Marshal  Tallard.  It  was  a  strange 
situation  for  a  general  to  take  up,  who  is  master  of  a 
vast  plain;  and  it  became,  as  will  be  seen,  a  very  sad 
one.  At  his  extreme  right  was  the  large  village  of 
Blenheim,  in  which,  by  a  blindness  without  example,  he 
had  placed  twenty-six  battalions  of  infantry,  six  regi- 
ments of  dragoons,  and  a  brigade  of  cavalry.  It  was 
an  entire  army  merely  for  the  purpose  of  holding  this 
village,  and  supporting  his  right,  and  of  course  he  had 
all  these  troops  the  less  to  aid  him  in  the  battle  which 
took  place.  The  first  battle  of  Hochstedt  afforded  a 
lesson  which  ought  to  have  been  studied  on  this  oc- 
casion. There  were  many  officers  present,  too,  who 
had  been  at  that  battle;  but  they  were  not  consulted. 
One  of  two  courses  was  open,  either  to  take  up  a  posi- 
tion behind  the  brook,  and  parallel  to  it,  so  as  to  dis- 
pute its  passage  with  the  enemies,  or  to  take  advantage 
of  the  disorder  they  would  be  thrown  into  in  crossing 
it  by  attacking  them  then.     Both   these  plans   were 


362  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

good;  the  second  was  the  better;  but  neither  was 
adopted.  What  was  done  was,  to  leave  a  large  space 
between  our  troops  and  the  brook,  that  the  enemy 
might  pass  at  their  ease,  and  be  overthrown  afterwards, 
as  was  said.  With  such  dispositions  it  is  impossible 
to  doubt  but  that  our  chiefs  were  struck  with  blindness. 
The  Danube  flowed  near  enough  to  Blenheim  to  be 
of  sufficient  support  to  our  right,  better  indeed  than 
that  village,  which  consequently  there  was  no  neces- 
sity to  hold. 

The  enemies  arrived  on  the  13th  of  August  at  the 
dawn,  and  at  once  took  up  their  position  on  the  banks 
of  the  brook.  Their  surprise  must  have  been  great  to 
see  our  army  so  far  off,  drawn  up  in  battle  array. 
They  profited  by  the  extent  of  ground  left  to  them, 
crossed  the  brook  at  nearly  every  point,  formed  them- 
selves in  several  lines  on  the  side  to  which  they  crossed, 
and  then  extended  themselves  at  their  ease,  without  re- 
ceiving the  slightest  opposition.  This  is  exact  truth, 
but  without  any  appearance  of  being  so ;  and  posterity 
will  with  difficulty  believe  it.  It  was  nearly  eight 
o'clock  before  all  these  dispositions,  which  our  troops 
saw  made  without  moving,  were  completed.  Prince 
Eugene  with  his  army  had  the  right;  the  Duke  of 
Marlborough  the  left.  The  latter  thus  opposed  to  the 
forces  of  Tallard,  and  Prince  Eugene  to  those  of 
Marsin. 

The  battle  commenced;  and  in  one  part  was  so  far 
favourable  to  us  that  the  attack  of  Prince  Eugene  was 
repulsed  by  Marsin,  who  might  have  profited  by  this 
circumstance  but  for  the  unfortunate  position  of  our 
right.  Two  things  contributed  to  place  us  at  a  disad- 
vantage. The  second  line,  separated  by  the  quagmire 
I  have  alluded  to  from  the  first  line,  could  not  sustain 
it  properly;  and  in  consequence  of  the  long  bend  it  was 
necessary  to  make  round  this  quagmire,  neither  line, 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  363 

after  receiving  or  making  a  charge,  could  retire  quickly 
to  rally  and  return  again  to  the  attack.  As  for  the  in- 
fantry, the  twenty-six  battalions  shut  up  in  Blenheim 
left  a  great  gap  in  it  that  could  not  fail  to  be  felt.  The 
English,  who  soon  perceived  the  advantage  they  might 
obtain  from  this  want  of  infantry,  and  from  the  diffi- 
culty with  which  our  cavalry  of  the  right  was  rallied, 
profited  by  these  circumstances  with  the  readiness  of 
people  who  have  plenty  of  ground  at  their  disposal. 
They  redoubled  their  charges,  and  to  say  all  in  one 
word,  they  defeated  at  their  first  attack  all  this  army, 
notwithstanding  the  efforts  of  our  general  officers  and 
of  several  regiments  to  repel  them.  The  army  of  the 
Elector,  entirely  unsupported,  and  taken  in  flank  by 
the  English,  wavered  in  its  turn.  All  the  valour  of  the 
Bavarians,  all  the  prodigies  of  the  Elector,  were  un- 
able to  remedy  the  effects  of  this  wavering.  Thus  was 
seen,  at  one  and  the  same  time,  the  army  of  Tallard 
beaten  and  thrown  into  the  utmost  disorder;  that  of 
the  Elector  sustaining  itself  with  great  intrepidity,  but 
already  in  retreat;  and  that  of  Marsin  charging  and 
gaining  ground  upon  Prince  Eugene.  It  was  not  un- 
til Marsin  learnt  of  the  defeat  of  Tallard  and  of  the 
Elector,  that  he  ceased  to  pursue  his  advantages,  and 
commenced  his  retreat.  This  retreat  he  was  able  to 
make  without  being  pursued. 

In  the  mean  time  the  troops  in  Blenheim  had  been 
twice  attacked,  and  had  twice  repulsed  the  enemy. 
Tallard  had  given  orders  to  these  troops  on  no  account 
to  leave  their  positions,  nor  to  allow  a  single  man  even 
to  quit  them.  Now,  seeing  his  army  defeated  and  in 
flight,  he  wished  to  countermand  these  orders.  He 
was  riding  in  hot  haste  to  Blenheim  to  do  so,  with  only 
two  attendants,  when  all  three  were  surrounded,  recog- 
nised, and  taken  prisoners. 

These  troops  shut  up  in  Blenheim  had  been  left  un- 


364  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

der  the  command  of  Blansac,  camp-marshal,  and  Cle- 
rembault,  lieutenant-general.  During  the  battle  this 
latter  was  missed,  and  could  nowhere  be  found.  It 
was  known  afterwards  that,  for  fear  of  being  killed, 
he  had  endeavoured  to  escape  across  the  Danube  on 
horseback  attended  by  a  single  valet.  The  valet  passed 
over  the  river  in  safety,  but  his  master  went  to  the 
bottom.  Blansac,  thus  left  alone  in  command,  was 
much  troubled  by  the  disorders  he  saw  and  heard,  and 
by  the  want  which  he  felt  of  fresh  orders.  He  sent  a 
messenger  to  Tallard  for  instructions  how  to  act,  but 
his  messenger  was  stopped  on  the  road,  and  taken 
prisoner.  I  only  repeat  what  Blansac  himself  reported 
in  his  defence,  which  was  equally  ill-received  by  the 
King  and  the  public,  but  which  had  no  contradictors, 
for  nobody  was  witness  of  what  took  place  at  Blen- 
heim except  those  actually  there,  and  they  all,  the  prin- 
cipals at  least,  agreed  in  their  story.  What  some  of 
the  soldiers  said  was  not  of  a  kind  that  could  altogether 
be  relied  upon. 

While  Blansac  was  in  this  trouble,  he  saw  Denon- 
ville,  one  of  our  officers  who  had  been  taken  prisoner, 
coming  towards  the  village,  accompanied  by  an  officer 
who  waved  a  handkerchief  in  the  air  and  demanded  a 
parley.  Denonville  was  a  young  man,  very  handsome 
and  well  made,  who  being  a  great  favourite  with  Mon- 
seigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne  had  become  presumptu- 
ous and  somewhat  audacious.  Instead  of  speaking  in 
private  to  Blansac  and  the  other  principal  officers — 
since  he  had  undertaken  so  strange  a  mission — Denon- 
ville, who  had  some  intellect,  plenty  of  fine  talk,  and  a 
mighty  opinion  of  himself,  set  to  work  haranguing  the 
troops,  trying  to  persuade  them  to  surrender  themselves 
prisoners  of  war,  so  that  they  might  preserve  them- 
selves for  the  service  of  the  King.  Blansac,  who  saw 
the  wavering  this  caused  among  the  troops,  sharply 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  365 

told  Denonville  to  hold  his  tongue,  and  began  himself 
to  harangue  the  troops  in  a  contrary  spirit.  But  it  was 
too  late.  The  mischief  was  done.  Only  one  regiment, 
that  of  Navarre,  applauded  him,  all  the  rest  maintained 
a  dull  silence.  I  remind  my  readers  that  it  is  Blan- 
sac's  version  of  the  story  I  am  giving. 

Soon  after  Denonville  and  his  companion  had  re- 
turned to  the  enemy,  an  English  lord  came,  demanding 
a  parley  with  the  commandant.  He  was  admitted  to 
Blansac,  to  whom  he  said  that  the  Duke  of  Marlbor- 
ough had  sent  him  to  say  that  he  had  forty  battalions 
and  sixty  pieces  of  cannon  at  his  disposal,  with  rein- 
forcements to  any  extent  at  command;  that  he  should 
surround  the  village  on  all  sides;  that  the  army  of  Tal- 
lard  was  in  flight,  and  the  remains  of  that  of  the 
Elector  in  retreat;  that  Tallard  and  many  general  of- 
ficers were  prisoners;  that  Blansac  could  hope  for  no 
reinforcements;  and  that,  therefore,  he  had  better  at 
once  make  an  honourable  capitulation,  and  surrender 
himself  with  all  his  men  prisoners  of  war,  than  attempt 
a  struggle  in  which  he  was  sure  to  be  worsted  with 
great  loss.  Blansac  wanted  to  dismiss  this  messenger 
at  once,  but  the  Englishman  pressed  him  to  advance 
a  few  steps  out  of  the  village,  and  see  with  his  own 
eyes  the  defeat  of  the  Electoral  army,  and  the  prepara- 
tions that  were  made  on  the  other  side  to  continue  the 
battle.  Blansac  accordingly,  attended  by  one  of  his 
officers,  followed  this  lord,  and  was  astounded  to  see 
with  his  own  eyes  that  all  he  had  just  heard  was  true. 
Returned  into  Bleinheim,  Blansac  assembled  all  his 
principal  officers,  made  them  acquainted  with  the 
proposition  that  had  been  made,  and  told  them  what 
he  had  himself  seen.  Every  one  comprehended  what 
a  frightful  shock  it  would  be  for  the  country  when  it 
learnt  that  they  had  surrendered  themselves  prisoners 
of  war;  but  all  things  well  considered,  it  was  thought 


366  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

best  to  accept  these  terms,  and  so  preserve  to  the  King 
the  twenty-six  battalions  and  the  twelve  squadrons  of 
dragoons  who  were  there.  This  terrible  capitulation 
was  at  once,  therefore,  drawn  up  and  signed  by  Blan- 
sac,  the  general  officers,  and  the  heads  of  every  corps 
except  that  of  Navarre,  which  was  thus  the  sole  one 
which  refused. 

The  number  of  prisoners  that  fell  to  the  enemy  in 
this  battle  was  infinite.  The  Duke  of  Marlborough 
took  charge  of  the  most  distinguished,  until  he  could 
carry  them  away  to  England,  to  grace  his  triumph 
there.  He  treated  them  all,  even  the  humblest,  with 
the  utmost  attention,  consideration,  and  politeness,  and 
with  a  modesty  that  did  him  even  more  honour  than 
his  victory.  Those  that  came  under  the  charge  of 
Prince  Louis  of  Baden  were  much  less  kindly  treated. 

The  King  received  the  cruel  news  of  this  battle  on 
the  21st  of  August,  by  a  courier  from  the  Marechal  de 
Villeroy.  By  this  courier  the  King  learnt  that  a  battle 
had  taken  place  on  the  13th;  had  lasted  from  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning  until  evening;  that  the  entire 
army  of  Tallard  was  killed  or  taken  prisoners;  that  it 
was  not  known  what  had  become  of  Tallard  himself, 
or  whether  the  Elector  and  Marsin  had  been  at  the  ac- 
tion. The  private  letters  that  arrived  were  all  opened 
to  see  what  news  they  contained,  but  no  fresh  informa- 
tion could  be  got  from  them.  For  six  days  the  King 
remained  in  this  uncertainty  as  to  the  real  losses  that 
had  been  sustained.  Everybody  was  afraid  to  write 
bad  news;  all  the  letters  which  from  time  to  time  ar- 
rived, gave,  therefore,  but  an  unsatisfactory  account  of 
what  had  taken  place.  The  King  used  every  means  in 
his  power  to  obtain  some  news.  Every  post  that  came 
in  was  examined  by  him,  but  there  was  little  found  to 
satisfy  him.  Neither  the  King  nor  anybody  else  could 
understand,  from  what  had  reached  them,  how  it  was 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  367, 

that  an  entire  army  had  been  placed  inside  a  village, 
and  had  surrendered  itself  by  a  signed  capitulation.  It 
puzzled  every  brain.  At  last  the  details,  that  had  oozed 
out  little  by  little,  augmented  to  a  perfect  stream,  by 
the  arrival  of  one  of  our  officers,  who,  taken  prisoner, 
had  been  allowed  by  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  to  go  to 
Paris  to  relate  to  the  King  the  misfortune  that  had 
happened  to  him. 

We  were  not  accustomed  to  misfortunes.  This  one, 
very  reasonably,  was  utterly  unexpected.  It  seemed 
in  every  way  the  result  of  bad  generalship,  of  an  un- 
justifiable disposition  of  troops,  and  of  a  series  of  gross 
and  incredible  errors.  The  commotion  was  general. 
There  was  scarcely  an  illustrious  family  that  had  not 
had  one  of  its  members  killed,  wounded,  or  taken 
prisoner.  Other  families  were  in  the  same  case.  The 
public  sorrow  and  indignation  burst  out  without  re- 
straint. Nobody  who  had  taken  part  in  this  humilia- 
tion was  spared;  the  generals  and  the  private  soldiers 
alike  came  in  for  blame.  Denonville  was  ignomini- 
ously  broken  for  the  speech  he  had  made  at  Blenheim. 
The  generals,  however,  were  entirely  let  off.  All  the 
punishment  fell  upon  certain  regiments,  which  were 
broken,  and  upon  certain  unimportant  officers — the 
guilty  and  innocent  mixed  together.  The  outcry  was 
universal.  The  grief  of  the  King  at  this  ignominy 
and  this  loss,  at  the  moment  when  he  imagined  that 
the  fate  of  the  Emperor  was  in  his  hands,  may  be 
imagined.  At  a  time  when  he  might  have  counted 
upon  striking  a  decisive  blow,  he  saw  himself  reduced 
to  act  simply  on  the  defensive,  in  order  to  preserve  his 
troops;  and  had  to  repair  the  loss  of  an  entire  army, 
killed  or  taken  prisoners.  The  sequel  showed  not  less 
that  the  hand  of  God  was  weighty  upon  us.  All  judg- 
ment was  lost.  We  trembled  even  in  the  midst  of 
Alsace. 


368  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  public  sorrow,  the  rejoicings 
and  the  fetes  for  the  birth  of  the  Due  de  Bretagns, 
son  of  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne,  were  not 
discontinued.  The  city  gave  a  firework  fete  upon 
the  river,  that  Monseigneur,  the  Princes,  his  sons,  and 
Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  with  many  ladies 
and  courtiers,  came  to  see  from  the  windows  of  the 
Louvre,  magnificent  cheer  and  refreshments  being  pro- 
vided for  them.  This  was  a  contrast  which  irritated 
the  people,  who  would  not  understand  that  it  was 
meant  for  magnanimity.  A  few  days  afterwards  the 
King  gave  an  illumination  and  a  fete  at  Marly,  to 
which  the  Court  of  Saint  Germain  was  invited,  and 
which  was  all  in  honour  of  Madame  la  Duchesse  de 
Bourgogne.  He  thanked  the  Prevot  des  Marchands 
for  the  fireworks  upon  the  river,  and  said  that  Mon- 
seigneur and  Madame  had  found  them  very  beautiful. 

Shortly  after  this,  I  received  a  letter  from  one  of 
my  friends,  the  Due  de  Montfort,  who  had  always 
been  in  the  army  of  the  Marechal  de  Villeroy.  He 
sent  word  to  me,  that  upon  his  return  he  intended  to 
break  his  sword,  and  retire  from  the  army.  His  let- 
ter was  written  in  such  a  despairing  tone  that,  fear- 
ing lest  with  his  burning  courage  he  might  commit 
some  martial  folly,  I  conjured  him  not  to  throw  him- 
self into  danger  for  the  sake  of  being  killed.  It 
seemed  that  I  had  anticipated  his  intentions.  A  con- 
voy of  money  was  to  be  sent  to  Landau.  Twice  he 
asked  to  be  allowed  to  take  charge  of  this  convoy, 
and  twice  he  was  told  it  was  too  insignificant  a  charge 
for  a  camp-marshal  to  undertake.  The  third  time 
that  he  asked  this  favour,  he  obtained  it  by  pure  im- 
portunity. He  carried  the  money  safely  into  Landau, 
without  meeting  with  any  obstacle.  On  his  return  he 
saw  some  hussars  roving  about.  Without  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation  he  resolved  to  give  chase  to  them. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  369 

He  was  with  difficulty  restrained  for  some  time,  and 
at  last,  breaking  away,  he  set  off  to  attack  them,  fol- 
lowed by  only  two  officers.  The  hussars  dispersed 
themselves,  and  retreated;  the  Due  de  Mont  fort  fol- 
lowed them,  rode  into  the  midst  of  them,  was  sur- 
rounded on  all  sides,  and  soon  received  a  blow  which 
overturned  him.  In  a  few  moments  after,  being  car- 
ried off  by  his  men,  he  died,  having  only  had  time  to 
confess  himself,  and  to  arrive  at  his  quarters.  He  was 
infinitely  regretted  by  everybody  who  had  known  him. 
The  grief  of  his  family  may  be  imagined. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE  King  did  not  long  remain  without  some  con- 
solation for  the  loss  of  the  battle  of  Hochstedt 
(Blenheim).  The  Comte  de  Toulouse — very 
different  in  every  respect  from  his  brother,  the  Due  du 
Maine — was  wearied  with  cruising  in  the  Mediter- 
ranean, without  daring  to  attack  enemies  that  were 
too  strong  for  him.  He  had,  therefore,  obtained 
reinforcements  this  year,  so  that  he  was  in  a  state  to 
measure  his  forces  with  any  opponent.  The  English 
fleet  was  under  the  command  of  Admiral  Rooke.  The 
Comte  de  Toulouse  wished  above  all  things  to  attack. 
He  asked  permission  to  do  so,  and,  the  permission  be- 
ing granted,  he  set  about  his  enterprise.  He  met  the 
fleet  of  Admiral  Rooke  near  Malaga,  on  the  24th  of 
September  of  this  year,  and  fought  with  it  from  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning  until  eight  o'clock  in  the  even- 
ing. The  fleets,  as  far  as  the  number  of  vessels  was 
concerned,  were  nearly  equal.  So  furious  or  so  ob- 
stinate a  sea-fight  had  not  been  seen  for  a  long  time. 
They  had  always  the  wind  upon  our  fleet,  yet  all  the 
advantage  was  on  the  side  of  the  Comte  de  Toulouse, 
who  could  boast  that  he  had  obtained  the  victory,  and 
whose  vessel  fought  that  of  Rooke,  dismasted  it,  and 
pursued  it  all  next  day  towards  the  coast  of  Barbary, 
where  the  Admiral  retired.  The  enemy  lost  six  thou- 
sand men;  the  ship  of  the  Dutch  Vice-Admiral  was 
blown  up;  several  others  were  sunk,  and  some  dis- 
masted. Our  fleet  lost  neither  ship  nor  mast,  but  the 
victory  cost  the  lives  of  many  distinguished  people, 

370 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  371 

in  addition  to  those  of  fifteen  hundred  soldiers  or 
sailors  killed  or  wounded. 

Towards  evening  on  the  25th,  by  dint  of  manoeuvres, 
aided  by  the  wind,  our  fleet  came  up  again  with  that 
of  Rooke.  The  Comte  de  Toulouse  was  for  attacking 
it  again  on  the  morrow,  and  showed  that  if  the  attack 
were  successful,  Gibraltar  would  be  the  first  result  of 
the  victory.  That  famous  place,  which  commands  the 
important  strait  of  the  same  name,  had  been  allowed 
to  fall  into  neglect,  and  was  defended  by  a  miserable 
garrison  of  forty  men.  In  this  state  it  had  of  course 
easily  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  enemies.  But  they 
had  not  yet  had  time  to  man  it  with  a  much  superior 
force,  and  Admiral  Rooke  once  defeated,  it  must  have 
surrendered  to  us. 

The  Comte  de  Toulouse  urged  his  advice  with  all  the 
energy  of  which  he  was  capable,  and  he  was  supported 
in  opinion  by  others  of  more  experience  than  himself. 
But  D'O,  the  mentor  of  the  fleet,  against  whose  counsel 
he  had  been  expressly  ordered  by  the  King  never  to 
act,  opposed  the  project  of  another  attack  with  such 
disdainful  determination,  that  the  Comte  had  no  course 
open  but  to  give  way.  The  annoyance  which  this 
caused  throughout  the  fleet  was  very  great.  It  soon 
was  known  what  would  have  become  of  the  enemy's 
fleet  had  it  been  attacked,  and  that  Gibraltar  would 
have  been  found  in  exactly  the  same  state  as  when 
abandoned.  The  Comte  de  Toulouse  acquired  great 
honour  in  this  campaign,  and  his  stupid  teacher  lost 
little,  because  he  had  little  to  lose. 

M.  de  Mantua  having  surrendered  his  state  to  the 
King,  thereby  rendering  us  a  most  important  service 
in  Italy,  found  himself  ill  at  ease  in  his  territory,  which 
had  become  the  theatre  of  war,  and  had  come  incognito 
to  Paris.  He  had  apartments  provided  for  him  in  the 
Luxembourg,  furnished  magnificently  with  the  Crown 


372  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

furniture,  and  was  very  graciously  received  by  the 
King.  The  principal  object  of  his  journey  was  to 
marry  some  French  lady ;  and  as  he  made  no  secret  of 
this  intention,  more  than  one  plot  was  laid  in  order  to 
provide  him  with  a  wife.  M.  de  Vaudemont,  intent 
upon  aggrandising  the  house  of  Lorraine,  wished  M. 
de  Mantua  to  marry  a  member  of  that  family,  and  fixed 
upon  Mademoiselle  d'Elbceuf  for  his  bride.  The  Lor- 
raines  did  all  in  their  power  to  induce  M.  de  Mantua 
to  accept  her.  But  M.  le  Prince  had  also  his  designs 
in  this  matter.  He  had  a  daughter,  whom  he  knew 
not  how  to  get  off  his  hands,  and  he  thought  that  in 
more  ways  than  one  it  would  be  to  his  advantage  to 
marry  her  to  the  Duke  of  Mantua.  He  explained  his 
views  to  the  King,  who  gave  him  permission  to  follow 
them  out,  and  promised  to  serve  him  with  all  his  pro- 
tection. But  when  the  subject  was  broached  to  M.  de 
Mantua,  he  declined  this  match  in  such  a  respectful, 
yet  firm,  manner  that  M.  le  Prince  felt  he  must  aban- 
don all  hope  of  carrying  it  out.  The  Lorraines  were 
not  more  successful  in  their  designs.  When  M.  de 
Vaudemont  had  first  spoken  of  Mademoiselle  d'Elbceuf, 
M.  de  Mantua  had  appeared  to  listen  favourably. 
This  was  in  Italy.  Now  that  he  was  in  Paris  he  acted 
very  differently.  It  was  in  vain  that  Mademoiselle 
d'Elbceuf  was  thrust  in  his  way,  as  though  by  chance, 
at  the  promenades,  in  the  churches;  her  beauty,  which 
might  have  touched  many  others,  made  no  impression 
upon  him.  The  fact  was  that  M.  de  Mantua,  even 
long  before  leaving  his  state,  had  fixed  upon  a  wife. 

Supping  one  evening  with  the  Due  de  Lesdiguieres, 
a  little  before  the  death  of  the  latter,  he  saw  a  ring 
with  a  portrait  in  it,  upon  the  Duke's  finger.  He 
begged  to  be  allowed  to  look  at  the  portrait,  was 
charmed  with  it,  and  said  he  should  be  very  happy  to 
have  such  a  beautiful  mistress.     The  Duke  at  this 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  373 

burst  out  laughing,  and  said  it  was  the  portrait  of  his 
wife.  As  soon  as  the  Due  de  Lesdiguieres  was  dead, 
M.  de  Mantua  thought  only  of  marrying  the  young 
widowed  Duchess.  He  sought  her  everywhere  when 
he  arrived  in  Paris,  but  without  being  able  to  find  her, 
because  she  was  in  the  first  year  of  her  widowhood. 
He  therefore  unbosomed  himself  to  Torcy,  who  re- 
ported the  matter  to  the  King.  The  King  approved 
of  the  design  of  M.  de  Mantua,  and  charged  the 
Marechal  de  Duras  to  speak  to  the  Duchesse  de  Les- 
diguieres, who  was  his  daughter.  The  Duchess  was 
equally  surprised  and  afflicted  when  she  learned  what 
was  in  progress.  She  testified  to  her  father  her  re- 
pugnance to  abandon  herself  to  the  caprices  and  the 
jealousy  of  an  old  Italian  debauche;  the  horror  she 
felt  at  the  idea  of  being  left  alone  with  him  in  Italy; 
and  the  reasonable  fear  she  had  of  her  health,  with  a 
man  whose  own  could  not  be  good. 

I  was  promptly  made  acquainted  with  this  affair ; 
for  Madame  de  Lesdiguieres  and  Madame  de  Saint- 
Simon  were  on  the  most  intimate  terms.  I  did  every- 
thing in  my  power  to  persuade  Madame  de  Lesdi- 
guieres to  consent  to  the  match,  insisting  at  once  on 
her  family  position,  on  the  reason  of  state,  and  on  the 
pleasure  of  ousting  Madame  d'Elbceuf, — but  it  was  all 
in  vain.  I  never  saw  such  firmness.  Pontchartrain, 
who  came  and  reasoned  with  her,  was  even  less  suc- 
cessful than  I,  for  he  excited  her  by  threats  and 
menaces.  M.  le  Prince  himself  supported  us — having 
no  longer  any  hope  for  himself,  and  fearing,  above  all 
things,  M.  de  Mantua's  marriage  with  a  Lorraine — 
and  did  all  he  could  to  persuade  Madame  de  Lesdi- 
guieres to  give  in.  I  renewed  my  efforts  in  the  same 
direction,  but  with  no  better  success  than  before. 
Nevertheless,  M.  de  Mantua,  irritated  by  not  being 
able  to  see  Madame  de  Lesdiguieres,  resolved  to  go 


374  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

and  wait  for  her  on  a  Sunday  at  the  Minimes.  He 
found  her  shut  up  in  a  chapel,  and  drew  near  the  door 
in  order  to  see  her  as  she  went  out.  He  was  not  much 
gratified;  her  thick  crape  veil  was  lowered;  it  was 
with  difficulty  he  could  get  a  glance  at  her.  Resolved 
to  succeed,  he  spoke  to  Torcy,  intimating  that  Madame 
de  Lesdiguieres  ought  not  to  refuse  such  a  slight 
favour  as  to  allow  herself  to  be  seen  in  a  church.  Torcy 
communicated  this  to  the  King,  who  sent  word  to 
Madame  de  Lesdiguieres  that  she  must  consent  to  the 
favour  M.  de  Mantua  demanded.  She  could  not  re- 
fuse after  this.  M.  de  Mantua  went  accordingly,  and 
waited  for  her  in  the  same  place,  where  he  had  once 
already  so  badly  seen  her.  He  found  her  in  the  chapel, 
and  drew  near  the  door,  as  before.  She  came  out,  her 
veil  raised,  passed  lightly  before  him,  made  him  a 
sliding  courtesy  as  she  glided  by,  in  reply  to  his  bow, 
and  reached  her  coach. 

M.  de  Mantua  was  charmed ;  he  redoubled  his  ef- 
forts with  the  King  and  M.  de  Duras;  the  matter  was 
discussed  in  full  council,  like  an  affair  of  state — indeed 
it  was  one;  and  it  was  resolved  to  amuse  M.  de 
Mantua,  and  yet  at  the  same  time  to  do  everything  to 
vanquish  this  resistance  of  Madame  de  Lesdiguieres, 
except  employing  the  full  authority  of  the  King,  which 
the  King  himself  did  not  wish  to  exert.  Everything 
was  promised  to  her  on  the  part  of  the  King:  that  it 
should  be  his  Majesty  who  would  make  the  stipula- 
tions of  the  marriage  contract ;  that  it  should  be  his 
Majesty  who  would  give  her  a  dowry,  and  would  guar- 
antee her  return  to  France  if  she  became  a  widow,  and 
assure  her  his  protection  while  she  remained  a  wife; 
in  one  word,  everything  was  tried,  and  in  the  gentlest 
and  most  honourable  manner,  to  persuade  her.  Her 
mother  lent  us  her  house  one  afternoon,  in  order  that 
we  might  speak  more  at  length  and  more  at  our  ease 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  375 

there  to  Madame  de  Lesdiguieres  than  we  could  at 
the  Hotel  de  Duras.  We  only  gained  a  torrent  of 
tears  for  our  pains. 

A  few  days  after  this,  I  was  very  much  astonished 
to  hear  Chamillart  relate  to  me  all  that  had  passed  at 
this  interview.  I  learnt  afterwards  that  Madame  de 
Lesdiguieres,  fearing  that  if,  entirely  unsupported,  she 
persisted  in  her  refusal,  it  might  draw  upon  her  the 
anger  of  the  King,  had  begged  Chamillart  to  implore 
his  Majesty  not  to  insist  upon  this  marriage.  M.  de 
Mantua  hearing  this,  turned  his  thoughts  elsewhere; 
and  she  was  at  last  delivered  of  a  pursuit  which  had 
become  a  painful  persecution  to  her.  Chamillart 
served  her  so  well  that  the  affair  came  to  an  end;  and 
the  King,  flattered  perhaps  by  the  desire  this  young 
Duchess  showed  to  remain  his  subject  instead  of  be- 
coming a  sovereign,  passed  a  eulogium  upon  her  the 
same  evening  in  his  cabinet  to  his  family  and  to  the 
Princesses,  by  whom  it  was  spread  abroad  through 
society. 

I  may  as  well  finish  this  matter  at  once.  The  Lor- 
raines,  who  had  watched  very  closely  the  affair  up  to 
this  point,  took  hope  again  directly  they  heard  of  the 
resolution  M.  de  Mantua  had  formed  to  abandon  his 
pursuit  of  Madame  de  Lesdiguieres.  They,  in  their 
turn,  were  closely  watched  by  M.  le  Prince,  who  so 
excited  the  King  against  them,  that  Madame  d'Elbceuf 
received  orders  from  him  not  to  continue  pressing  her 
suit  upon  M.  de  Mantua.  That  did  not  stop  them. 
They  felt  that  the  King  would  not  interfere  with  them 
by  an  express  prohibition,  and  sure,  by  past  experi- 
ence, of  being  on  better  terms  with  him  afterwards 
than  before,  they  pursued  their  object  with  obstinacy. 
By  dint  of  much  plotting  and  scheming,  and  by  the  aid 
of  their  creatures,  they  contrived  to  overcome  the  re- 
pugnance of  M.  de  Mantua  to  Mademoiselle  d'Elbceuf, 


376  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

which  at  bottom  could  be  only  caprice — her  beauty, 
her  figure,  and  her  birth  taken  into  account.  But 
Mademoiselle  d'Elbceuf,  in  her  turn,  was  as  opposed 
to  marriage  with  M.  de  Mantua  as  Madame  de  Lesdi- 
guieres  had  been.  She  was,  however,  brought  round 
ere  long,  and  then  the  consent  of  the  King  was  the  only 
thing  left  to  be  obtained.  The  Lorraines  made  use  of 
their  usual  suppleness  in  order  to  gain  that.  They  rep- 
resented the  impolicy  of  interfering  with  the  selection 
of  a  sovereign  who  was  the  ally  of  France,  and  who 
wished  to  select  a  wife  from  among  her  subjects,  and 
succeeded  so  well,  that  the  King  determined  to  become 
neutral ;  that  is  to  say,  neither  to  prohibit  nor  to  sanc- 
tion this  match.  M.  le  Prince  was  instrumental  in  in- 
ducing the  King  to  take  this  neutral  position;  and  he 
furthermore  caused  the  stipulation  to  be  made,  that  it 
should  not  be  celebrated  in  France,  but  at  Mantua. 

After  parting  with  the  King,  M.  de  Mantua,  on  the 
2 1 st  of  September,  went  to  Nemours,  slept  there,  and 
then  set  out  for  Italy.  At  the  same  time  Madame  and 
Mademoiselle  d'Elbceuf,  with  Madame  de  Pompadour, 
sister  of  the  former,  passed  through  Fontainebleau 
without  going  to  see  a  soul,  and  followed  their  prey 
lest  he  should  change  his  mind  and  escape  them — ■ 
until  the  road  he  was  to  take  branched  off  from  that 
they  were  to  go  by;  he  in  fact  intending  to  travel  by 
sea  and  they  by  land.  On  the  way  their  fears  re- 
doubled. Arrived  at  Nevers,  and  lodged  in  a  hostel- 
rie,  they  thought  it  would  not  be  well  to  commit  them- 
selves further  without  more  certain  security.  Madame 
de  Pompadour  therefore  proposed  to  M.  de  Mantua 
not  to  delay  his  happiness  any  longer,  but  to  celebrate 
his  marriage  at  once.  He  defended  himself  as  well  as 
he  could,  but  was  at  last  obliged  to  give  in.  During 
this  indecent  dispute,  the  Bishop  was  sent  to.  He  had 
just  died,  and  the  Grand  Vicar,  not  knowing  what 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  377 

might  be  the  wishes  of  the  King  upon  this  marriage, 
refused  to  celebrate  it.  The  chaplain  was  therefore  ap- 
pealed to,  and  he  at  once  married  Mademoiselle  d'El- 
bceuf to  M.  de  Mantua  in  the  hotel.  As  soon  as  the 
ceremony  was  over,  Madame  d'Elbceuf  wished  to  leave 
her  daughter  alone  with  M.  de  Mantua,  and  although 
he  strongly  objected  to  this,  everybody  quitted  the 
room,  leaving  only  the  newly  married  couple  there, 
and  Madame  de  Pompadour  outside  upon  the  step 
listening  to  what  passed  between  them.  But  finding 
after  a  while  that  both  were  very  much  embarrassed, 
and  that  M.  de  Mantua  did  little  but  cry  out  for  the 
company  to  return,  she  conferred  with  her  sister,  and 
they  agreed  to  give  him  his  liberty.  Immediately  he 
had  obtained  it,  he  mounted  his  horse,  though  it  was 
not  early,  and  did  not  see  them  again  until  they  reached 
Italy — though  all  went  the  same  road  as  far  as  Lyons. 
The  news  of  this  strange  celebration  of  marriage  was 
soon  spread  abroad  with  all  the  ridicule  which  attached 
to  it. 

The  King  was  very  much  annoyed  when  he  learnt 
that  his  orders  had  been  thus  disobeyed.  The  Lor- 
raines  plastered  over  the  affair  by  representing  that 
they  feared  an  affront  from  M.  de  Mantua,  and  indeed 
it  did  not  seem  at  all  unlikely  that  M.  de  Mantua, 
forced  as  it  were  into  compliance  with  their  wishes, 
-  might  have  liked  nothing  better  than  to  reach  Italy 
and  then  laugh  at  them.  Meanwhile,  Madame  d'El- 
bceuf and  her  daughter  embarked  on  board  the  royal 
galleys  and  started  for  Italy.  On  the  way  they  were 
fiercely  chased  by  some  African  corsairs,  and  it  is  a 
great  pity  they  were  not  taken  to  finish  the  romance. 

However,  upon  arriving  in  Italy,  the  marriage  was 
again  celebrated,  this  time  with  all  the  forms  necessary 
for  the  occasion.  But  Madame  d'Elbceuf  had  no  cause 
to  rejoice  that  she  had  succeeded  in  thus  disposing 


378  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

of  her  daughter.  The  new  Duchesse  de  Mantua  was 
guarded  by  her  husband  with  the  utmost  jealousy. 
She  was  not  allowed  to  see  anybody  except  her  mother, 
and  that  only  for  an  hour  each  day.  Her  women  en- 
tered her  apartment  only  to  dress  and  undress  her. 
The  Duke  walled  up  very  high  all  the  windows  of  his 
house,  and  caused  his  wife  to  be  guarded  by  old 
women.  She  passed  her  days  thus  in  a  cruel  prison. 
This  treatment,  which  I  did  not  expect,  and  the  little 
consideration,  not  to  say  contempt,  shown  here  for  M. 
de  Mantua  since  his  departure,  consoled  me  much  for 
the  invincible  obstinacy  of  Madame  de  Lesdiguieres. 
Six  months  after,  Madame  d'Elbceuf  returned,  beside 
herself  with  vexation,  but  too  vain  to  show  it.  She 
disguised  the  misfortune  of  her  daughter,  and  ap- 
peared to  be  offended  if  it  was  spoken  of;  but  all  our 
letters  from  the  army  showed  that  the  news  was  true. 
The  strangest  thing  of  all  is,  that  the  Lorraines  after 
this  journey  were  as  well  treated  by  the  King  as  if  they 
had  never  undertaken  it;  a  fact  which  shows  their  art 
and  ascendency. 

I  have  dwelt  too  long  perhaps  upon  this  matter.  It 
appeared  to  me  to  merit  attention  by  its  singularity, 
and  still  more  so  because  it  is  by  facts  of  this  sort  that 
is  shown  what  was  the  composition  of  the  Court  of  the 
King. 

About  this  time  the  Comtesse  d'Auvergne  finished 
a  short  life  by  an  illness  very  strange  and  uncommon. 
When  she  married  the  Comte  d'Auvergne  she  was  a 
Huguenot,  and  he  much  wanted  to  make  her  turn 
Catholic.  A  famous  advocate  of  that  time,  who  was 
named  Chardon,  had  been  a  Huguenot,  and  his  wife 
also;  they  had  made  a  semblance,  however,  of  abjur- 
ing, but  made  no  open  profession  of  Catholicism. 
Chardon  was  sustained  by  his  great  reputation,  and 
by  the  number  of  protectors  he  had  made  for  himself. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  379 

One  morning  he  and  his  wife  were  in  their  coach  be- 
fore the  Hotel-Dieu,  waiting  for  a  reply  that  their 
lackey  was  a  very  long  time  in  bringing  them.  Ma- 
dame Chardon  glanced  by  chance  upon  the  grand  por- 
tal of  Notre  Dame,  and  little  by  little  fell  into  a  pro- 
found reverie,  which  might  be  better  called  reflection. 
Her  husband,  who  at  last  perceived  this,  asked  her 
what  had  sent  her  into  such  deep  thought,  and  pushed 
her  elbow  even  to  draw  a  reply  from  her.  She  told 
him  then  what  she  was  thinking  about.  Pointing  to 
Notre  Dame,  she  said  that  it  was  many  centuries  be- 
fore Luther  and  Calvin  that  those  images  of  saints 
had  been  sculptured  over  that  portal ;  that  this  proved 
that  saints  had  long  since  been  invoked ;  the  opposition 
of  the  reformers  to  this  ancient  opinion  was  a  novelty; 
that  this  novelty  rendered  suspicious  other  dogmas 
against  the  antiquity  of  Catholicism  that  they  taught; 
that  these  reflections,  which  she  had  never  before  made, 
gave  her  much  disquietude,  and  made  her  form  the 
resolution  to  seek  to  enlighten  herself. 

Chardon  thought  his  wife  right,  and  from  that  day 
they  laid  themselves  out  to  seek  the  truth,  then  to  con- 
sult, then  to  be  instructed.  This  lasted  a  year,  and  then 
they  made  a  new  abjuration,  and  both  ever  afterwards 
passed  their  lives  in  zeal  and  good  works.  Madame 
Chardon  converted  many  Huguenots.  The  Comte 
d'Auvergne  took  his  wife  to  her.  The  Countess  was 
converted  by  her,  and  became  a  very  good  Catholic. 
When  she  died  she  was  extremely  regretted  by  all  the 
relatives  of  her  husband,  although  at  first  they  had 
looked  upon  her  coldly. 

In  the  month  of  this  September,  a  strange  attempt  at 
assassination  occurred.  Vervins  had  been  forced  into 
many  suits  against  his  relatives,  and  was  upon  the 
point  of  gaining  them  all,  when  one  of  his  cousins- 
german,  who  called  himself  the  Abbe  de  Pre,  caused 


380  DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON 

him  to  be  attacked  as  he  passed  in  his  coach  along  the 
Quai  de  la  Tournelle,  before  the  community  of  Madame 
de  Miramion.  Vervins  was  wounded  with  several 
sword  cuts,  and  also  his  coachman,  who  wished  to  de- 
fend him.  In  consequence  of  the  complaint  Vervins 
made,  the  Abbe  escaped  abroad,  whence  he  never  re- 
turned, and  soon  after,  his  crime  being  proved,  was 
condemned  to  be  broken  alive  on  the  wheel.  Vervins 
had  long  been  menaced  with  an  attack  by  the  Abbe. 
Vervins  was  an  agreeable,  well-made  man,  but  very 
idle.  He  had  entered  the  army;  but  quitted  it  soon, 
and  retired  to  his  estates  in  Picardy.  There  he  shut 
himself  up  without  any  cause  of  disgust  or  of  displeas- 
ure, without  being  in  any  embarrassment,  for  on  the 
contrary  he  was  well  to  do,  and  all  his  affairs  were  in 
good  order,  and  he  never  married;  without  motives  of 
piety,  for  piety  was  not  at  all  in  his  vein ;  without  being 
in  bad  health,  for  his  health  was  always  perfect ;  with- 
out a  taste  for  improvement,  for  no  workmen  were  ever 
seen  in  his  house;  still  less  on  account  of  the  chase, 
for  he  never  went  to  it.  Yet  he  stayed  in  his  house  for 
several  years,  without  intercourse  with  a  soul,  and, 
what  is  most  incomprehensible,  without  budging  from 
his  bed,  except  to  allow  it  to  be  made.  He  dined  there, 
and  often  all  alone;  he  transacted  what  little  business 
he  had  to  do  there,  and  received  while  there  the  few 
people  he  could  not  refuse  admission  to;  and  each  day, 
from  the  moment  he  opened  his  eyes  until  he  closed 
them  again,  worked  at  tapestry,  or  read  a  little ;  he 
persevered  until  his  death  in  this  strange  fashion  of 
existence;  so  uniquely  singular,  that  I  have  wished  to 
describe  it. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

THERE  presents  itself  to  my  memory  an  anec- 
dote which  it  would  be  very  prudent  perhaps 
to  be  silent  upon,  and  which  is  very  curious  for 
anybody  who  has  seen  things  so  closely  as  I  have,  to 
describe.  What  determines  me  to  relate  it  is  that  the 
fact  is  not  altogether  unknown,  and  that  every  Court 
swarms  with  similar  adventures.  Must  it  be  said 
then  ?  We  had  amongst  us  a  charming  young  Princess 
who,  by  her  graces,  her  attentions,  and  her  original 
manners,  had  taken  possession  of  the  hearts  of  the 
King,  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  of  her  husband, 
Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne.  The  extreme  dis- 
content so  justly  felt  against  her  father,  M.  de  Savoie, 
had  not  made  the  slightest  alteration  in  their  tender- 
ness for  her.  The  King,  who  hid  nothing  from  her, 
who  worked  with  his  ministers  in  her  presence  when- 
ever she  liked  to  enter,  took  care  not  to  say  a  word  in 
her  hearing  against  her  father.  In  private,  she  clasped 
the  King  round  the  neck  at  all  hours,  jumped  upon  his 
knees,  tormented  him  with  all  sorts  of  sportiveness, 
rummaged  among  his  papers,  opened  his  letters  and 
read  them  in  his  presence,  sometimes  in  spite  of  him; 
and  acted  in  the  same  manner  with  Madame  de  Mainte- 
non. Despite  this  extreme  liberty,  she  never  spoke 
against  any  one :  gracious  to  all,  she  endeavoured  to 
ward  off  blows  from  all  whenever  she  could;  was 
attentive  to  the  private  comforts  of  the  King,  even 
the  humblest :  kind  to  all  who  served  her,  and  living 
with  her  ladies,  as  with  friends,  in  complete  liberty, 
old  and  young;   she  was  the  darling  of  the  Court, 

381 


382  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

adored  by  all ;  everybody,  great  and  small,  was  anxious 
to  please  her;  everybody  missed  her  when  she  was 
away;  when  she  reappeared  the  void  was  filled  up; 
in  a  word,  she  had  attached  all  hearts  to  her ;  but  while 
in  this  brilliant  situation  she  lost  her  own. 

Nangis,  now  a  very  commonplace  Marshal  of 
France,  was  at  that  time  in  full  bloom.  He  had  an 
agreeable  but  not  an  uncommon  face;  was  well  made, 
without  anything  marvellous;  and  had  been  educated 
in  intrigue  by  the  Marechale  de  Rochefort,  his  grand- 
mother, and  Madame  de  Blansac,  his  mother,  who 
were  skilled  mistresses  of  that  art.  Early  introduced 
by  them  into  the  great  world  of  which  they  were,  so 
to  speak,  the  centre,  he  had  no  talent  but  that  of  pleas- 
ing women,  of  speaking  their  language,  and  of  monop- 
olising the  most  desirable  by  a  discretion  beyond  his 
years,  and  which  did  not  belong  to  his  time.  No- 
body was  more  in  vogue  than  he.  He  had  had  the 
command  of  a  regiment  when  he  was  quite  a  child. 
He  had  shown  firmness,  application,  and  brilliant 
valour  in  war,  that  the  ladies  had  made  the  most  of, 
and  they  sufficed  at  his  age;  he  was  of  the  Court  of 
Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne,  about  the  same 
age,  and  well  treated  by  him. 

The  Due  de  Bourgogne,  passionately  in  love  with 
his  wife,  was  not  so  well  made  as  Nangis;  but  the 
Princess  reciprocated  his  ardour  so  perfectly  that  up 
to  his  death  he  never  suspected  that  her  glances  had 
wandered  to  any  one  else.  They  fell,  however,  upon 
Nangis,  and  soon  redoubled.  Nangis  was  not  un- 
grateful, but  he  feared  the  thunderbolt;  and  his  heart, 
too,  was  already  engaged.  Madame  de  la  Vrilliere, 
who,  without  beauty,  was  pretty  and  grateful  as  Love, 
had  made  this  conquest.  She  was,  as  I  have  said, 
daughter  of  Madame  de  Mailly,  Dame  d'Atours  of 
Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne;  and  was  always 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  383 

near  her.  Jealousy  soon  enlightened  her  as  to  what 
was  taking  place.  Far  from  yielding  her  conquest  to 
the  Duchess,  she  made  a  point  of  preserving  it,  of  dis- 
puting its  possession,  and  carrying  it  off.  This 
struggle  threw  Nangis  into  a  terrible  embarrassment. 
He  feared  the  fury  of  Madame  de  la  Vrilliere,  who 
affected  to  be  more  ready  to  break  out  than  in  reality 
she  was.  Besides  his  love  for  her,  he  feared  the  re- 
sult of  an  outburst,  and  already  saw  his  fortune  lost. 
On  the  other  hand,  any  reserve  of  his  towards  the 
Duchess,  who  had  so  much  power  in  her  hands — and 
seemed  destined  to  have  more — and  who  he  knew  was 
not  likely  to  suffer  a  rival — might,  he  felt,  be  his  ruin. 
This  perplexity,  for  those  who  were  aware  of  it,  gave 
rise  to  continual  scenes.  I  was  then  a  constant  visitor 
of  Madame  de  Blansac,  at  Paris,  and  of  the  Marechale 
de  Roche  fort,  at  Versailles;  and,  through  them  and 
several  other  ladies  of  the  Court,  with  whom  I  was 
intimate,  I  learnt,  day  by  day,  everything  that  passed. 
In  addition  to  the  fact  that  nothing  diverted  me  more, 
the  results  of  this  affair  might  be  great;  and  it  was 
my  especial  ambition  to  be  well  informed  of  every- 
thing. At  length,  all  members  of  the  Court  who  were 
assiduous  and  enlightened  understood  the  state  of  af- 
fairs; but  either  through  fear  or  from  love  to  the 
Duchess,  the  whole  Court  was  silent,  saw  everything, 
whispered  discreetly,  and  actually  kept  the  secret  that 
was  not  entrusted  to  it.  The  struggle  between  the  two 
ladies,  not  without  bitterness,  and  sometimes  insolence 
on  the  part  of  Madame  de  la  Vrilliere,  nor  without 
suffering  and  displeasure  gently  manifested  on  the  part 
of  Madame  de  Bourgogne,  was  for  a  long  time  a  singu- 
lar sight. 

Whether  Nangis,  too  faithful  to  his  first  love,  needed 
some  grains  of  jealousy  to  excite  him,  or  whether 
things  fell  out  naturally,  it  happened  that  he  found  a 


384  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

rival.  Maulevrier,  son  of  a  brother  of  Colbert  who 
had  died  of  grief  at  not  being  named  Marshal  of 
France,  was  this  rival.  He  had  married  a  daughter 
of  the  Marechal  de  Tesse,  and  was  not  very  agreeable 
in  appearance — his  face,  indeed,  was  very  common- 
place. He  was  by  no  means  framed  for  gallantry; 
but  he  had  wit,  and  a  mind  fertile  in  intrigues,  with  a 
measureless  ambition  that  was  sometimes  pushed  to 
madness.  His  wife  was  pretty,  not  clever,  quarrel- 
some, and  under  a  virginal  appearance,  mischievous 
to  the  last  degree.  As  daughter  of  a  man  for  whom 
Madame  de  Bourgogne  had  much  gratitude  for  the 
part  he  had  taken  in  negotiating  her  marriage,  and 
the  Peace  of  Savoy,  she  was  easily  enabled  to  make 
her  way  at  Court,  and  her  husband  with  her.  He  soon 
sniffed  what  was  passing  in  respect  to  Nangis,  and 
obtained  means  of  access  to  Madame  de  Bourgogne, 
through  the  influence  of  his  father-in-law;  was  as- 
siduous in  his  attentions;  and  at  length,  excited  by 
example,  dared  to  sigh.  Tired  of  not  being  under- 
stood, he  ventured  to  write.  It  is  pretended  that  he 
sent  his  letters  through  one  of  the  Court  ladies,  who 
thought  they  came  from  Tesse,  delivered  them,  and 
handed  him  back  the  answers,  as  though  for  delivery 
by  him.  I  will  not  add  what  more  was  believed.  I 
will  simply  say  that  this  affair  was  as  soon  perceived  as 
had  been  the  other,  and  was  treated  with  the  same 
silence. 

Under  pretext  of  friendship,  Madame  de  Bourgogne 
went  more  than  once — on  account  of  the  speedy  de- 
parture of  her  husband  (for  the  army),  attended  some- 
times by  La  Maintenon, — to  the  house  of  Madame  de 
Maulevrier,  to  weep  with  her.  The  Court  smiled. 
Whether  the  tears  were  for  Madame  de  Maulevrier  or 
for  Nangis,  was  doubtful.  But  Nangis,  nevertheless, 
aroused  by  this  rivalry,  threw  Madame  de  la  Vrilliere 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  '385 

into  terrible  grief,  and  into  a  humour  over  which  she 
was  not  mistress. 

This  tocsin  made  itself  heard  by  Maulevrier.  What 
will  not  a  man  think  of  doing  when  possessed  to  ex- 
cess by  love  or  ambition  ?  He  pretended  to  have  some- 
thing the  matter  with  his  chest,  put  himself  on  a  milk 
diet,  made  believe  that  he  had  lost  his  voice,  and  was 
sufficiently  master  of  himself  to  refrain  from  uttering 
an  intelligible  word  during  a  whole  year;  by  these 
means  evading  the  campaign  and  remaining  at  the 
Court.  He  was  mad  enough  to  relate  this  project, 
and  many  others,  to  his  friend  the  Due  de  Lorges, 
from  whom,  in  turn,  I  learnt  it.  The  fact  was,  that 
bringing  himself  thus  to  the  necessity  of  never  speak- 
ing to  anybody  except  in  their  ear,  he  had  the  liberty 
of  speaking  low  to  Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne  before  all  the  Court  without  impropriety  and 
without  suspicion.  In  this  manner  he  said  to  her 
whatever  he  wished  day  by  day,  and  was  never  over- 
heard. He  also  contrived  to  say  things  the  short 
answers  to  which  were  equally  unheard.  He  so  ac- 
customed people  to  this  manner  of  speaking  that  they 
took  no  more  notice  of  it  than  was  expressed  in  pity 
for  such  a  sad  state;  but  it  happened  that  those  who 
approached  the  nearest  to  Madame  la  Duchesse  de 
Bourgogne  when  Maulevrier  was  at  her  side,  soon 
knew  enough  not  to  be  eager  to  draw  near  her  again 
when  she  was  thus  situated.  This  trick  lasted  more 
than  a  year :  his  conversation  was  principally  composed 
of  reproaches — but  reproaches  rarely  succeed  in  love. 
Maulevrier,  judging  by  the  ill-humour  of  Madame 
de  la  Vrilliere,  believed  Nangis  to  be  happy.  Jealousy 
and  rage  transported  him  at  last  to  the  extremity  of 
folly. 

One  day,  as  Madame  de  Bourgogne  was  coming 
from  mass  and  he  knew  that  Dangeau,  her  chevalier 


386  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

d'honneur,  was  absent,  he  gave  her  his  hand.  The  at- 
tendants had  accustomed  themselves  to  let  him  have 
this  honour,  on  account  of  his  distinguished  voice,  so 
as  to  allow  him  to  speak  by  the  way,  and  retired  re- 
spectfully so  as  not  to  hear  what  he  said.  The  ladies 
always  followed  far  behind,  so  that,  in  the  midst  of  all 
the  Court,  he  had,  from  the  chapel  to  the  apartments 
of  Madame  de  Bourgogne,  the  full  advantages  of  a 
private  interview — advantages  that  he  had  availed  him- 
self of  several  times.  On  this  day  he  railed  against 
Nangis  to  Madame  de  Bourgogne,  called  him  by  all 
sorts  of  names,  threatened  to  tell  everything  to  the 
King  and  to  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  to  the  Due 
de  Bourgogne,  squeezed  her  ringers  as  if  he  would 
break  them,  and  led  her  in  this  manner,  like  a  madman 
as  he  was,  to  her  apartments.  Upon  entering  them 
she  was  ready  to  swoon.  Trembling  all  over  she  en- 
tered her  wardrobe,  called  one  of  her  favourite  ladies, 
Madame  de  Nogaret,  to  her,  related  what  had  oc- 
curred, saying  she  knew  not  how  she  had  reached  her 
rooms,  or  how  it  was  she  had  not  sunk  beneath  the 
floor,  or  died.  She  had  never  been  so  dismayed.  The 
same  day  Madame  de  Nogaret  related  this  to  Madame 
de  Saint-Simon  and  to  me,  in  the  strictest  confidence. 
She  counselled  the  Duchess  to  behave  gently  with  such 
a  dangerous  madman,  and  to  avoid  committing  her- 
self in  any  way  with  him.  The  worst  was,  that  after 
this  he  threatened  and  said  many  things  against  Nan- 
gis, as  a  man  with  whom  he  was  deeply  offended,  and 
whom  he  meant  to  call  to  account.  Although  he  gave 
no  reason  for  this,  the  reason  was  only  too  evident. 
The  fear  of  Madame  de  Bourgogne  at  this  may  be 
imagined,  and  also  that  of  Nangis.  He  was  brave  and 
cared  for  nobody ;  but  to  be  mixed  up  in  such  an  affair 
as  this  made  him  quake  with  fright.  He  beheld  his 
fortune  and  his  happiness  in  the  hands  of  a  furious 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  387 

madman.  He  shunned  Maulevrier  from  that  time  as 
much  as  possible,  showed  himself  but  little,  and  held 
his  peace. 

For  six  weeks  Madame  de  Bourgogne  lived  in  the 
most  measured  manner,  and  in  mortal  tremors  of  fear, 
without,  however,  anything  happening.  I  know  not 
who  warned  Tesse  of  what  was  going  on.  But  when 
he  learnt  it  he  acted  like  a  man  of  ability.  He  per- 
suaded his  son-in-law,  Maulevrier,  to  follow  him  to 
Spain,  as  to  a  place  where  his  fortune  was  assured  to 
him.  He  spoke  to  Fagon,  who  saw  all  and  knew  all. 
He  understood  matters  in  a  moment,  and  at  once  said, 
that  as  so  many  remedies  had  been  tried  ineffectually 
for  Maulevrier,  he  must  go  to  a  warmer  climate,  as  a 
winter  in  France  would  inevitably  kill  him.  It  was 
then  as  a  remedy,  and  as  people  go  to  the  waters,  that 
he  went  to  Spain.  The  King  and  all  the  Court  be- 
lieved this,  and  neither  the  King  nor  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon  offered  any  objections.  As  soon  as  Tesse  knew 
this  he  hurried  his  son-in-law  out  of  the  realm,  and  so 
put  a  stop  to  his  follies  and  the  mortal  fear  they  had 
caused.  To  finish  this  adventure  at  once,  although  it 
will  lead  me  far  beyond  the  date  of  other  matters  to  be 
spoken  of  after,  let  me  say  what  became  of  Maulevrier 
after  this  point  of  the  narrative. 

He  went  first  to  Spain  with  Tesse.  On  the  way 
they  had  an  interview  with  Madame  des  Ursins,  and 
succeeded  in  gaining  her  favour  so  completely,  that, 
upon  arriving  at  Madrid,  the  King  and  Queen  of 
Spain,  informed  of  this,  welcomed  them  with  much 
cordiality.  Maulevrier  soon  became  a  great  favourite 
with  the  Queen  of  Spain.  It  has  been  said  that  he 
wished  to  please  her,  and  that  he  succeeded.  At  all 
events  he  often  had  long  interviews  with  her  in  private, 
and  these  made  people  think  and  talk. 

Maulevrier  began  to  believe  it  time  to  reap  after 

Vol.  11  Memoirs — M 


388  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

having  so  well  sown.  He  counted  upon  nothing  less 
than  being  made  grandee  of  Spain,  and  would  have 
obtained  this  favour  but  for  his  indiscretion.  News 
of  what  was  in  store  for  him  was  noised  abroad.  The 
Due  de  Grammont,  then  our  ambassador  at  Madrid, 
wrote  word  to  the  King  of  the  rumours  that  were  in 
circulation  of  Maulevrier's  audacious  conduct  towards 
the  Queen  of  Spain,  and  of  the  reward  it  was  to  meet 
with.  The  King  at  once  sent  a  very  strong  letter  to 
the  King  of  Spain  about  Maulevrier,  who,  by  the  same 
courier,  was  prohibited  from  accepting  any  favour  that 
might  be  offered  him.  He  was  ordered  at  the  same 
time  to  join  Tesse  at  Gibraltar.  He  had  already  done 
so  at  the  instance  of  Tesse  himself ;  so  the  courier  went 
from  Madrid  to  Gibraltar  to  find  him.  His  rage  and 
vexation  upon  seeing  himself  deprived  of  the  recom- 
pense he  had  considered  certain  were  very  great.  But 
they  yielded  in  time  to  the  hopes  he  formed  of  success, 
and  he  determined  to  set  off  for  Madrid  and  thence 
to  Versailles.  His  father-in-law  tried  to  retain  him 
at  the  siege,  but  in  vain.  His  representations  and  his 
authority  were  alike  useless.  Maulevrier  hoped  to 
gain  over  the  King  and  Queen  of  Spain  so  completely, 
that  our  King  would  be  forced,  as  it  were,  to  range 
himself  on  their  side;  but  the  Due  de  Grammont  at 
once  wrote  word  that  Maulevrier  had  left  the  siege  of 
Gibraltar  and  returned  to  Madrid.  This  disobedience 
was  at  once  chastised.  A  courier  was  immediately  de- 
spatched to  Maulevrier,  commanding  him  to  set  out 
for  France.  He  took  leave  of  the  King  and  Queen  of 
Spain  like  a  man  without  hope,  and  left  Spain.  The 
most  remarkable  thing  is,  that  upon  arriving  at  Paris, 
and  finding  the  Court  at  Marly,  and  his  wife  there  also, 
he  asked  permission  to  go  too,  the  husbands  being 
allowed  by  right  to  accompany  their  wives  there,  and 
the  King,  to  avoid  a  disturbance,  did  not  refuse  him. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  389 

At  first  everything  seemed  to  smile  upon  Maule- 
vrier.  He  had,  as  I  have  said,  made  friends  with  Ma- 
dame des  Ursins  when  he  was  on  the  road  to  Spain. 
He  had  done  so  chiefly  by  vaunting  his  intimacy  with 
Madame  de  Bourgogne,  and  by  showing  to  Madame 
des  Ursins  that  he  was  in  many  of  the  secrets  of 
the  Court.  Accordingly,  upon  his  return,  she  took 
him  by  the  hand  and  showed  a  disposition  towards  him 
which  could  not  fail  to  reinstate  him  in  favour.  She 
spoke  well  of  him  to  Madame  de  Maintenon,  who,  al- 
ways much  smitten  with  new  friends,  received  him 
well,  and  often  had  conversations  with  him  which 
lasted  more  than  three  hours.  Madame  de  Maintenon 
mentioned  him  to  the  King,  and  Maulevrier,  who  had 
returned  out  of  all  hope,  now  saw  himself  in  a  more 
favourable  position  than  ever. 

But  the  old  cause  of  trouble  still  existed,  and  with 
fresh  complications.  Nangis  was  still  in  favour,  and 
his  appearance  made  Maulevrier  miserable.  There 
was  a  new  rival  too  in  the  field,  the  Abbe  de  Polignac. 

Pleasing,  nay  most  fascinating  in  manner,  the  Abbe 
was  a  man  to  gain  all  hearts.  He  stopped  at  no  flat- 
tery to  succeed  in  this.  One  day  when  following 
the  King  through  the  gardens  of  Marly,  it  came  on  to 
rain.  The  King  considerately  noticed  the  Abbe's  dress, 
little  calculated  to  keep  off  rain.  "  It  is  no  matter, 
Sire,"  said  De  Polignac,  "  the  rain  of  Marly  does  not 
wet."  People  laughed  much  at  this,  and  these  words 
were  a  standing  reproach  to  the  soft-spoken  Abbe. 

One  of  the  means  by  which  the  Abbe  gained  the 
favour  of  the  King  was  by  being  the  lover  of  Madame 
du  Maine.  His  success  at  length  was  great  in  every 
direction.  He  even  envied  the  situations  of  Nangis 
and  Maulevrier;  and  sought  to  participate  in  the  same 
happiness.  He  took  the  same  road.  Madame  d'O 
and  the  Marechale  de  Cceuvres  became  his   friends. 


390  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

He  sought  to  be  heard,  and  was  heard.  At  last  he 
faced  the  danger  of  the  Swiss,  and  on  fine  nights  was 
seen  with  the  Duchess  in  the  gardens.  Nangis  di- 
minished in  favour.  Maulevrier  on  his  return  in- 
creased in  fury.  The  Abbe  met  with  the  same  fate  as 
they :  everything  was  perceived :  people  talked  about 
the  matter  in  whispers,  but  silence  was  kept.  This 
triumph,  in  spite  of  his  age,  did  not  satisfy  the  Abbe: 
he  aimed  at  something  more  solid.  He  wished  to  ar- 
rive at  the  cardinalship,  and  to  further  his  views  he 
thought  it  advisable  to  ingratiate  himself  into  the 
favour  of  Monsieur  de  Bourgogne.  He  sought  intro- 
duction to  them  through  friends  of  mine,  whom  I 
warned  against  him  as  a  man  without  scruple,  and  in- 
tent only  upon  advancing  himself.  My  warnings  were 
in  vain.  My  friends  would  not  heed  me,  and  the  Abbe 
de  Polignac  succeeded  in  gaining  the  confidence  of 
Monsieur  de  Bourgogne,  as  well  as  the  favour  of  Ma- 
dame de  Bourgogne. 

Maulevrier  had  thus  two  sources  of  annoy ance — 
the  Abbe  de  Polignac  and  Nangis.  Of  the  latter  he 
showed  himself  so  jealous,  that  Madame  de  Maule- 
vrier, out  of  pique,  made  advances  to  him.  Nangis, 
to  screen  himself  the  better,  replied  to  her.  Maule- 
vrier perceived  this.  He  knew  his  wife  to  be  suffi- 
ciently wicked  to  make  him  fear  her.  So  many 
troubles  of  heart  and  brain  transported  him.  He  lost 
his  head. 

One  day  the  Marechale  de  Cceuvres  came  to  see 
him,  apparently  on  some  message  of  reconciliation. 
He  shut  the  door  upon  her ;  barricaded  her  within,  and 
through  the  door  quarrelled  with  her,  even  to  abuse, 
for  an  hour,  during  which  she  had  the  patience  to  re- 
main there  without  being  able  to  see  him.  After  this 
he  went  rarely  to  Court,  but  generally  kept  himself 
shut  up  at  home. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  391 

Sometimes  he  would  go  out  all  alone  at  the  strangest 
hours,  take  a  fiacre  and  drive  away  to  the  back  of  the 
Chartreux  or  to  other  remote  spots.  Alighting  there, 
he  would  whistle,  and  a  grey-headed  old  man  would 
advance  and  give  him  a  packet,  or  one  would  be  thrown 
to  him  from  a  window,  or  he  would  pick  up  a  box  filled 
with  despatches,  hidden  behind  a  post.  I  heard  of 
these  mysterious  doings  from  people  to  whom  he  was 
vain  and  indiscreet  enough  to  boast  of  them.  He  con- 
tinually wrote  letters  to  Madame  de  Bourgogne,  and 
to  Madame  de  Maintenon,  but  more  frequently  to  the 
former.  Madame  Cantin  was  their  agent ;  and  I  know 
people  who  have  seen  letters  of  hers  in  which  she 
assured  Maulevrier,  in  the  strongest  terms,  that  he 
might  ever  reckon  on  the  Duchess. 

He  made  a  last  journey  to  Versailles,  where  he  saw 
his  mistress  in  private,  and  quarrelled  with  her  cruelly. 
After  dining  with  Torcy  he  returned  to  Paris.  There, 
torn  by  a  thousand  storms  of  love,  of  jealousy,  of  am- 
bition, his  head  was  so  troubled  that  doctors  were 
obliged  to  be  called  in,  and  he  was  forbidden  to  see 
any  but  the  most  indispensable  persons,  and  those  at 
the  hours  when  he  was  least  ill.  A  hundred  visions 
passed  through  his  brain.  Now  like  a  madman  he 
would  speak  only  of  Spain,  of  Madame  de  Bour- 
gogne, of  Nangis,  whom  he  wished  to  kill  or  to  have 
assassinated;  now  full  of  remorse  towards  M.  de 
Bourgogne,  he  made  reflections  so  curious  to  hear, 
that  no  one  dared  to  remain  with  him,  and  he  was  left 
alone.  At  other  times,  recalling  his  early  days,  he  had 
nothing  but  ideas  of  retreat  and  penitence.  Then  a 
confession  was  necessary  in  order  to  banish  his  despair 
as  to  the  mercy  of  God.  Often  he  thought  himself 
very  ill  and  upon  the  point  of  death. 

The  world,  however,  and  even  his  nearest  friends 
persuaded  themselves  that  he  was  only  playing  a  part; 


392  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

and  hoping  to  put  an  end  to  it,  they  declared  to  him 
that  he  passed  for  mad  in  society,  and  that  it  behoved 
him  to  rise  out  of  such  a  strange  state  and  show  him- 
self. This  was  the  last  blow  and  it  overwhelmed  him. 
Furious  at  finding  that  this  opinion  was  ruining  all  the 
designs  of  his  ambition,  he  delivered  himself  up  to 
despair.  Although  watched  with  extreme  care  by  his 
wife,  by  particular  friends,  and  by  his  servants,  he  took 
his  measures  so  well,  that  on  the  Good  Friday  of  the 
year  1706,  at  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  he 
slipped  away  from  them  all,  entered  a  passage  behind 
his  room,  opened  the  window,  threw  himself  into  the 
court  below,  and  dashed  out  his  brains  upon  the  pave- 
ment. Such  was  the  end  of  an  ambitious  man,  who, 
by  his  wild  and  dangerous  passions,  lost  his  wits,  and 
then  his  life,  a  tragic  victim  of  himself. 

Madame  de  Bourgogne  learnt  the  news  at  night. 
In  public  she  showed  no  emotion,  but  in  private  some 
tears  escaped  her.  They  might  have  been  of  pity,  but 
were  not  so  charitably  interpreted.  Soon  after,  it  was 
noticed  that  Madame  de  Maintenon  seemed  embar- 
rassed and  harsh  towards  Madame  de  Bourgogne. 
It  was  no  longer  doubted  that  Madame  de  Maintenon 
had  heard  the  whole  story.  She  often  had  long  inter- 
views with  Madame  de  Bourgogne,  who  always  left 
them  in  tears.  Her  sadness  grew  so  much,  and  her 
eyes  were  so  often  red,  that  Monsieur  de  Bourgogne  at 
last  became  alarmed.  But  he  had  no  suspicion  of  the 
truth,  and  was  easily  satisfied  with  the  explanation  he 
received.  Madame  de  Bourgogne  felt  the  necessity, 
however,  of  appearing  gayer,  and  showed  herself  so. 
As  for  the  Abbe  de  Polignac,  it  was  felt  that  that  dan- 
gerous person  was  best  away.  He  received  therefore 
a  post  which  called  him  away,  as  it  were,  into  exile; 
and  though  he  delayed  his  departure  as  long  as  possible, 
was  at  length  obliged  to  go.     Madame  de  Bourgogne 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  393 

took  leave  of  him  in  a  manner  that  showed  how  much 
she  was  affected.  Some  rather  insolent  verses  were 
written  upon  this  event;  and  were  found  written  on 
a  balustrade  by  Madame,  who  was  not  discreet  enough 
or  good  enough  to  forget  them.  But  they  made  little 
noise;  everybody  loved  Madame  de  Bourgogne,  and 
hid  these  verses  as  much  as  possible. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

AT  the  beginning  of  October,  news  reached  the 
/-\  Court,  which  was  at  Fontainebleau,  that  M.  de 
-^  -^  Duras  was  at  the  point  of  death.  Upon  hear- 
ing this,  Madame  de  Saint-Simon  and  Madame  de 
Lauzun,  who  were  both  related  to  M.  Duras,  wished 
to  absent  themselves  from  the  Court  performances 
that  were  to  take  place  in  the  palace  that  evening. 
They  expressed  this  wish  to  Madame  de  Bourgogne, 
who  approved  of  it,  but  said  she  was  afraid  the  King 
would  not  do  the  same.  He  had  been  very  angry  lately 
because  the  ladies  had  neglected  to  go  full  dressed  to 
the  Court  performances.  A  few  words  he  had  spoken 
made  everybody  take  good  care  not  to  rouse  his  anger 
on  this  point  again.  He  expected  so  much  accordingly 
from  everybody  who  attended  the  Court,  that  Madame 
de  Bourgogne  was  afraid  he  would  not  consent  to  dis- 
pense with  the  attendance  of  Madame  de  Saint-Simon 
and  Madame  de  Lauzun  on  this  occasion.  They  com- 
promised the  matter,  therefore,  by  dressing  them- 
selves, going  to  the  room  where  the  performance  was 
held,  and,  under  pretext  of  not  finding  places,  going 
away;  Madame  de  Bourgogne  agreeing  to  explain 
their  absence  in  this  way  to  the  King.  I  notice  this 
very  insignificant  bagatelle  to  show  how  the  King 
thought  only  of  himself,  and  how  much  he  wished  to 
be  obeyed;  and  that  that  which  would  not  have  been 
pardoned  to  the  nieces  of  a  dying  man,  except  at  the 
Court,  was  a  duty  there,  and  one  which  it  needed 
great  address  to  escape  from,  without  seriously  in- 
fringing the  etiquette  established. 

394 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  395 

After  the  return  of  the  Court  from  Fontainebleau 
this  year,  Puysieux  came  back  from  Switzerland,  hav- 
ing been  sent  there  as  ambassador.  Puysieux  was  a 
little  fat  man,  very  agreeable,  pleasant,  and  witty,  one 
of  the  best  fellows  in  the  world,  in  fact.  As  he  had 
much  wit,  and  thoroughly  knew  the  King,  he  bethought 
himself  of  making  the  best  of  his  position;  and  as  his 
Majesty  testified  much  friendship  for  him  on  his  re- 
turn, and  declared  himself  satisfied  with  his  mission 
in  Switzerland,  Puysieux  asked  if  what  he  heard  was 
not  mere  compliment,  and  whether  he  could  count 
upon  it.  As  the  King  assured  him  that  he  might  do 
so,  Puysieux  assumed  a  brisk  air,  and  said  that  he 
was  not  so  sure  of  that,  and  that  he  was  not  pleased 
with  his  Majesty. 

"  And  why  not  ?  "  said  the  King. 

"Why  not?"  replied  Puysieux;  "why,  because  al- 
though the  most  honest  man  in  your  realm,  you  have 
not  kept  to  a  promise  you  made  me  more  than  fifty 
years  ago." 

"  What  promise?  "  asked  the  King. 

"What  promise,  Sire?"  said  Puysieux;  "you  have 
a  good  memory,  you  cannot  have  forgotten  it.  Does 
not  your  Majesty  remember  that  one  day,  having  the 
honour  to  play  at  blindman's  buff  with  you  at  my 
grandmother's,  you  put  your  cordon  bleu  on  my  back, 
the  better  to  hide  yourself;  and  that  when,  after  the 
game,  I  restored  it  to  you,  you  promised  to  give  it  me 
when  you  became  master;  you  have  long  been  so, 
thoroughly  master,  and  nevertheless  that  cordon  bleu 
is  still  to  come." 

The  King,  who  recollected  the  circumstance,  here 
burst  out  laughing,  and  told  Puysieux  he  was  in  the 
right,  and  that  a  chapter  should  be  held  on  the  first  day 
of  the  new  year  expressly  for  the  purpose  of  receiv- 
ing him  into  the  order.     And  so  in  fact  it  was,  and 


396  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

Puysieux  received  the  cordon  bleu  on  the  day  the 
King  had  named.  This  fact  is  not  important,  but  it  is 
amusing.  It  is  altogether  singular  in  connection  with 
a  prince  as  serious  and  as  imposing  as  Louis  XIV. ; 
and  it  is  one  of  those  little  Court  anecdotes  which  are 
curious. 

Here  is  another  more  important  fact,  the  con- 
sequences of  which  are  still  felt  by  the  State.  Pont- 
chartrain,  Secretary  of  State  for  the  Navy,  was  the 
plague  of  it,  as  of  all  those  who  were  under  his  cruel 
dependence.  He  was  a  man  who,  with  some  amount 
of  ability,  was  disagreeable  and  pedantic  to  an  excess; 
who  loved  evil  for  its  own  sake;  who  was  jealous  even 
of  his  father;  who  was  a  cruel  tyrant  towards  his  wife, 
a  woman  all  docility  and  goodness;  who  was  in  one 
word  a  monster,  whom  the  King  kept  in  office  only 
because  he  feared  him.  An  admiral  was  the  abhor- 
rence of  Pontchartrain,  and  an  admiral  who  was  an 
illegitimate  son  of  the  King,  he  loathed.  There  was 
nothing,  therefore,  that  he  had  not  done  during  the 
war  to  thwart  the  Comte  de  Toulouse;  he  laid  some 
obstacles  everywhere  in  his  path ;  he  had  tried  to  keep 
him  out  of  the  command  of  the  fleet,  and  failing  this, 
had  done  everything  to  render  the  fleet  useless. 

These  were  bold  strokes  against  a  person  the  King 
so  much  loved,  but  Pontchartrain  knew  the  weak  side 
of  the  King ;  he  knew  how  to  balance  the  father  against 
the  master,  to  bring  forward  the  admiral  and  set  aside 
the  son.  In  this  manner  the  Secretary  of  State  was 
able  to  put  obstacles  in  the  way  of  the  Comte  de  Tou- 
louse that  threw  him  almost  into  despair,  and  the  Count 
could  do  little  to  defend  himself.  It  was  a  well-known 
fact  at  sea  and  in  the  ports  where  the  ships  touched, 
and  it  angered  all  the  fleet.  Pontchartrain  accordingly 
was  abhorred  there,  while  the  Comte  de  Toulouse,  by 
his  amiability  and  other  good  qualities,  was  adored. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  397 

At  last,  the  annoyance  he  caused  became  so  unendur- 
able, that  the  Comte  de  Toulouse,  at  the  end  of  his 
cruise  in  the  Mediterranean,  returned  to  Court  and  de- 
termined to  expose  the  doings  of  Pontchartrain  to  the 
King. 

The  very  day  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  do  this, 
and  just  before  he  intended  to  have  his  interview  with 
the  King,  Madame  Pontchartrain,  casting  aside  her 
natural  timidity  and  modesty,  came  to  him,  and  with 
tears  in  her  eyes  begged  him  not  to  bring  about  the 
ruin  of  her  husband.  The  Comte  de  Toulouse  was 
softened.  He  admitted  afterwards  that  he  could  not 
resist  the  sweetness  and  sorrow  of  Madame  de  Pont- 
chartrain, and  that  all  his  resolutions,  his  weapons,  fell 
from  his  hands  at  the  thought  of  the  sorrow  which 
the  poor  woman  would  undergo,  after  the  fall  of  her 
brutal  husband,  left  entirely  in  the  hands  of  such  a 
furious  Cyclops.  In  this  manner  Pontchartrain  was 
saved,  but  it  cost  dear  to  the  State.  The  fear  he  was 
in  of  succumbing  under  the  glory  or  under  the  venge- 
ance of  an  admiral  who  was  son  of  the  King  deter- 
mined him  to  ruin  the  fleet  itself,  so  as  to  render  it  in- 
capable of  receiving  the  admiral  again.  He  determined 
to  do  this,  and  kept  to  his  word,  as  was  afterwards 
only  too  clearly  verified  by  the  facts.  The  Comte  de 
Toulouse  saw  no  more  either  ports  or  vessels,  and 
from  that  time  only  very  feeble  squadrons  went  out, 
and  even  those  very  seldom.  Pontchartrain  had  the 
impudence  to  boast  of  this  before  my  face. 

When  I  last  spoke  of  Madame  des  Ursins,  I  de- 
scribed her  as  living  in  the  midst  of  the  Court,  flat- 
tered and  caressed  by  all,  and  on  the  highest  terms  of 
favour  with  the  King  and  Madame  de  Maintenon. 
She  found  her  position,  indeed,  so  far  above  her  hopes, 
that  she  began  to  waver  in  her  intention  of  returning  to 
Spain.     The  age  and  the  health  of  Madame  de  Main- 


398  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

tenon  tempted  her.  She  would  have  preferred  to  gov- 
ern here  rather  than  in  Spain.  Flattered  by  the  atten- 
tions paid  her,  she  thought  those  attentions,  or,  I  may 
say,  rather  those  servile  adorations,  would  continue 
for  ever,  and  that  in  time  she  might  arrive  at  the  high- 
est point  of  power.  The  Archbishop  of  Aix  and  her 
brother  divined  her  thoughts,  for  she  did  not  dare  to 
avow  them,  and  showed  her  in  the  clearest  way  that 
those  thoughts  were  calculated  to  lead  her  astray. 
They  explained  to  her  that  the  only  interest  Madame 
de  Maintenon  had  in  favouring  her  was  on  account  of 
Spain.  Madame  des  Ursins  once  back  in  that  country, 
Madame  de  Maintenon  looked  forward  to  a  recom- 
mencement of  those  relations  which  had  formerly  ex- 
isted between  them,  by  which  the  government  of  Spain 
in  appearance,  if  not  in  reality,  passed  through  her 
hands.  They  therefore  advised  Madame  des  Ursins 
on  no  account  to  think  of  remaining  in  France,  at  the 
same  time  suggesting  that  it  would  not  be  amiss  to 
stop  there  long  enough  to  cause  some  inquietude  to 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  so  as  to  gain  as  much  ad- 
vantage as  possible  from  it. 

The  solidity  of  these  reasons  persuaded  Madame  des 
Ursins  to  follow  the  advice  given  her.  She  resolved 
to  depart,  but  not  until  after  a  delay  by  which  she 
meant  to  profit  to  the  utmost.  We  shall  soon  see  what 
success  attended  her  schemes.  The  terms  upon  which 
I  stood  with  her  enabled  me  to  have  knowledge  of  all 
the  sentiments  that  had  passed  through  her  mind : — 
her  extreme  desire,  upon  arriving  in  Paris,  to  return 
to  Spain;  the  intoxication  which  seized  her  in  con- 
sequence of  the  treatment  she  received,  and  which 
made  her  balance  this  desire;  and  her  final  resolution. 
It  was  not  until  afterwards,  however,  that  I  learnt  all 
the  details  I  have  just  related. 

It  was  not  long  before  Madame  de  Maintenon  began 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  399 

to  feel  impatient  at  the  long-delayed  departure  of  Ma- 
dame des  Ursins.  She  spoke  at  last  upon  the  subject, 
and  pressed  Madame  des  Ursins  to  set  out  for  Spain. 
This  was  just  what  the  other  wanted.  She  said  that  as 
she  had  been  driven  out  of  Spain  like  a  criminal,  she 
must  go  back  with  honour,  if  Madame  de  Maintenon 
wished  her  to  gain  the  confidence  and  esteem  of  the 
Spaniards.  That  although  she  had  been  treated  by 
the  King  with  every  consideration  and  goodness,  many 
people  in  Spain  were,  and  would  be,  ignorant  of  it, 
and  that,  therefore,  her  return  to  favour  ought  to  be 
made  known  in  as  public  and  convincing  a  manner  as 
was  her  disgrace.  This  was  said  with  all  that  elo- 
quence and  persuasiveness  for  which  Madame  des 
Ursins  was  remarkable.  The  effect  of  it  exceeded  her 
hopes. 

The  favours  she  obtained  were  prodigious.  Twenty 
thousand  livres  by  way  of  annual  pension,  and  thirty 
thousand  for  her  journey.  One  of  her  brothers,  M.  de 
Noirmoutiers,  blind  since  the  age  of  eighteen  or 
twenty,  was  made  hereditary  duke;  another,  the  Abbe 
de  la  Tremoille,  of  exceeding  bad  life,  and  much 
despised  in  Rome,  where  he  lived,  was  made  cardinal. 
What  a  success  was  this !  How  many  obstacles  had 
to  be  overcome  in  order  to  attain  it!  Yet  this  was 
what  Madame  des  Ursins  obtained,  so  anxious  was 
Madame  de  Maintenon  to  get  rid  of  her  and  to  send 
her  to  reign  in  Spain,  that  she  might  reign  there  her- 
self. Pleased  and  loaded  with  favour  as  never  subject 
was  before,  Madame  des  Ursins  set  out  towards  the 
middle  of  July,  and  was  nearly  a  month  on  the  road. 
It  may  be  imagined  what  sort  of  a  reception  awaited 
her  in  Spain.  The  King  and  the  Queen  went  a  day's 
journey  out  of  Madrid  to  meet  her.  Here,  then,  we 
see  again  at  the  height  of  power  this  woman,  whose 
fall  the  King  but  a  short  time  since  had  so  ardently 


4oo  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

desired,  and  whose  separation  from  the  King  and 
Queen  of  Spain  he  had  applauded  himself  for  bring- 
ing about  with  so  much  tact.  What  a  change  in  a 
few  months! 

The  war  continued  this  year,  but  without  bringing 
any  great  success  to  our  arms.  Villars,  at  Circk,  out- 
manoeuvred Marlborough  in  a  manner  that  would  have 
done  credit  to  the  greatest  general.  Marlborough, 
compelled  to  change  the  plan  of  campaign  he  had  de- 
termined on,  returned  into  Flanders,  where  the  Mare- 
chal  de  Villeroy  was  stationed  with  his  forces. 
Nothing  of  importance  occurred  during  the  campaign, 
and  the  two  armies  went  into  winter  quarters  at  the 
end  of  October. 

I  cannot  quit  Flanders  without  relating  another  in- 
stance of  the  pleasant  malignity  of  M.  de  Lauzun.  In 
marrying  a  daughter  of  the  Marechal  de  Lorges,  he 
had  hoped,  as  I  have  already  said,  to  return  into  the 
confidence  of  the  King  by  means  of  the  Marechal,  and 
so  be  again  entrusted  with  military  command.  Find- 
ing these  hopes  frustrated,  he  thought  of  another 
means  of  reinstating  himself  in  favour.  He  deter- 
mined to  go  to  the  waters  of  Aix-la-Chapelle,  not,  as 
may  be  believed,  for  his  health,  but  in  order  to  in- 
gratiate himself  with  the  important  foreigners  whom 
he  thought  to  find  there,  learn  some  of  the  enemy's 
plans,  and  come  back  with  an  account  of  them  to  the 
King,  who  would,  no  doubt,  reward  him  for  his  zeal. 
But  he  was  deceived  in  his  calculation.  Aix-la- 
Chapelle,  generally  so  full  of  foreigners  of  rank,  was 
this  year,  owing  to  the  war,  almost  empty.  M.  de 
Lauzun  found,  therefore,  nobody  of  consequence  from 
whom  he  could  obtain  any  useful  information.  Before 
his  return,  he  visited  the  Marechal  de  Villeroy,  who  re- 
ceived him  with  all  military  honours,  and  conducted 
him  all  over  the  army,  pointing  out  to  him  the  enemy's 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  401 

posts;  for  the  two  armies  were  then  quite  close  to 
each  other.  His  extreme  anxiety,  however,  to  get  in- 
formation, and  the  multitude  of  his  questions,  ir- 
ritated the  officers  who  were  ordered  to  do  the  honours 
to  him;  and,  in  going  about,  they  actually,  at  their 
own  risk,  exposed  him  often  to  be  shot  or  taken.  They 
did  not  know  that  his  courage  was  extreme;  and  were 
quite  taken  aback  by  his  calmness,  and  his  evident 
readiness  to  push  on  even  farther  than  they  chose  to 
venture. 

On  returning  to  Court,  M.  de  Lauzun  was  of  course 
pressed  by  everybody  to  relate  all  he  knew  of  the  posi- 
tion of  the  two  armies.  But  he  held  himself  aloof 
from  all  questioners,  and  would  not  answer.  On  the 
day  after  his  arrival  he  went  to  pay  his  court  to  Mon- 
seigneur,  who  did  not  like  him,  but  who  also  was  no 
friend  to  the  Marechal  de  Villeroy.  Monseigneur  put 
many  questions  to  him  upon  the  situation  of  the  two 
armies,  and  upon  the  reasons  which  had  prevented 
them  from  engaging  each  other.  M.  de  Lauzun 
shirked  reply,  like  a  man  who  wished  to  be  pressed; 
did  not  deny  that  he  had  well  inspected  the  position 
of  the  two  armies,  but  instead  of  answering  Mon- 
seigneur, dwelt  upon  the  beauty  of  our  troops,  their 
gaiety  at  finding  themselves  so  near  an  enemy,  and 
their  eagerness  to  fight.  Pushed  at  last  to  the  point 
at  which  he  wished  to  arrive,  "  I  will  tell  you,  Mon- 
seigneur," said  he,  "  since  you  absolutely  command 
me;  I  scanned  most  minutely  the  front  of  the 
two  armies  to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  and  all  the 
ground  between  them.  It  is  true  there  is  no  brook, 
and  that  I  saw;  neither  are  there  any  ravines,  nor 
hollow  roads  ascending  or  descending;  but  it  is  true 
that  there  were  other  hindrances  which  I  particularly 
remarked." 

"  But  what  hindrance  could  there  be,"  said  Mon- 


402  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 


seigneur,  "  since  there  was  nothing  between  the  two 
armies?  " 

M.  de  Lauzun  allowed  himself  to  be  pressed  upon 
this  point,  constantly  repeating  the  list  of  hindrances 
that  did  not  exist,  but  keeping  silent  upon  the  others. 
At  last,  driven  into  a  corner,  he  took  his  snuff-box 
from  his  pocket. 

"  You  see,"  said  he,  to  Monseigneur,  "  there  is  one 
thing  which  much  embarrasses  the  feet,  the  furze  that 
grows  upon  the  ground,  where  M.  le  Marechal  de  Ville- 
roy  is  encamped.  The  furze,  it  is  true,  is  not  mixed 
with  any  other  plant,  either  hard  or  thorny;  but  it  is 
a  high  furze,  as  high,  as  high,  let  me  see,  what  shall  I 
say  ?  " — and  he  looked  all  around  to  find  some  object 
of  comparison — "  as  high,  I  assure  you,  as  this  snuff- 
box!" 

Monseigneur  burst  out  laughing  at  this  sally,  and 
all  the  company  followed  his  example,  in  the  midst 
of  which  M.  de  Lauzun  turned  on  his  heel  and  left  the 
room.  His  joke  soon  spread  all  over  the  Court  and 
the  town,  and  in  the  evening  was  told  to  the  King. 
This  was  all  the  thanks  M.  de  Villeroy  obtained  from 
M.  de  Lauzun  for  the  honours  he  had  paid  him;  and 
this  was  M.  de  Lauzun's  consolation  for  his  ill-success 
at  Aix-la-Chapelle. 

In  Italy  our  armies  were  not  more  successful  than 
elsewhere.  From  time  to  time,  M.  de  Vendome  at- 
tacked some  unimportant  post,  and,  having  carried  it, 
despatched  couriers  to  the  King,  magnifying  the  im- 
portance of  the  exploit.  But  the  fact  was,  all  these 
successes  led  to  nothing.  On  one  occasion,  at  Cassano, 
M.  de  Vendome  was  so  vigorously  attacked  by  Prince 
Louis  of  Baden  that,  in  spite  of  his  contempt  and  his 
audacity,  he  gave  himself  up  for  lost.  When  danger 
was  most  imminent,  instead  of  remaining  at  his  post, 
he  retired  from  the  field  of  battle  to  a  distant  country- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  403 

house,  and  began  to  consider  how  a  retreat  might  be 
managed.  The  Grand  Prieur,  his  brother,  was  in  com- 
mand under  him,  and  was  ordered  to  remain  upon  the 
field;  but  he  was  more  intent  upon  saving  his  skin 
than  on  obeying  orders,  and  so,  at  the  very  outset  of 
the  fight,  ran  away  to  a  country-house  hard  by.  M.  de 
Vendome  strangely  enough  had  sat  down  to  eat  at  the 
country-house  whither  he  had  retired,  and  was  in  the 
midst  of  his  meal  when  news  was  brought  him  that, 
owing  to  the  prodigies  performed  by  one  of  his  of- 
ficers, Le  Guerchois,  the  fortunes  of  the  day  had 
changed,  and  Prince  Louis  of  Baden  was  retiring.  M. 
Vendome  had  great  difficulty  to  believe  this,  but  or- 
dered his  horse,  mounted,  and,  pushing  on,  concluded 
the  combat  gloriously.  He  did  not  fail,  of  course,  to 
claim  all  the  honours  of  this  victory,  which  in  reality 
was  a  barren  one;  and  sent  word  of  his  triumph  to 
the  King.  He  dared  to  say  that  the  loss  of  the  enemy 
was  more  than  thirteen  thousand;  and  our  loss  less 
than  three  thousand — whereas,  the  loss  was  at  least 
equal.  This  exploit,  nevertheless,  resounded  at  the 
Court  and  through  the  town  as  an  advantage  the  most 
complete  and  the  most  decisive,  and  due  entirely  to 
the  vigilance,  valour,  and  capacity  of  Vendome.  Not 
a  word  was  said  of  his  country-house,  or  the  inter- 
rupted meal.  These  facts  were  only  known  after 
the  return  of  the  general  officers.  As  for  the  Grand 
Prieur,  his  poltroonery  had  been  so  public,  his  flight  so 
disgraceful — for  he  had  taken  troops  with  him  to  pro- 
tect the  country-house  in  which  he  sought  shelter — 
that  he  could  not  be  pardoned.  The  two  brothers 
quarrelled  upon  these  points,  and  in  the  end  the  Grand 
Prieur  was  obliged  to  give  up  his  command.  He  re- 
tired to  his  house  at  Clichy,  near  Paris;  but,  tiring  of 
that  place,  he  went  to  Rome,  made  the  acquaintance 
there  of  the  Marquise  de  Richelieu,  a  wanderer  like 


404  DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON 

himself,  and  passed  some  time  with  her  at  Genoa. 
Leaving  that  city,  he  went  to  Chalons-sur-Saone, 
which  had  been  fixed  upon  as  the  place  of  his  exile, 
and  there  gave  himself  up  to  the  debaucheries  in  which 
he  usually  lived.  From  this  time  until  the  Regency  we 
shall  see  nothing  more  of  him.  I  shall  only  add,  there- 
fore, that  he  never  went  sober  to  bed  during  thirty 
years,  but  was  always  carried  thither  dead  drunk :  was 
a  liar,  swindler,  and  thief ;  a  rogue  to  the  marrow  of 
his  bones,  rotted  with  vile  diseases;  the  most  con- 
temptible and  yet  most  dangerous  fellow  in  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

TWO  very  different  persons  died  towards  the  lat- 
ter part  of  this  year.  The  first  was  La- 
moignon,  Chief  President;  the  second,  Ninon, 
known  by  the  name  of  Mademoiselle  de  l'Enclos.  Of 
Lamoignon  I  will  relate  a  single  anecdote,  curious  and 
instructive,  which  will  show  the  corruption  of  which 
he  was  capable. 

One  day — I  am  speaking  of  a  time  many  years  pre- 
vious to  the  date  of  the  occurrences  just  related — one 
day  there  was  a  great  hunting  party  at  Saint  Germain. 
The  chase  was  pursued  so  long,  that  the  King  gave  up, 
and  returned  to  Saint  Germain.  A  number  of  cour- 
tiers, among  whom  was  M.  de  Lauzun,  who  related 
this  story  to  me,  continued  their  sport;  and  just  as 
darkness  was  coming  on,  discovered  that  they  had  lost 
their  way.  After  a  time,  they  espied  a  light,  by  which 
they  guided  their  steps,  and  at  length  reached  the  door 
of  a  kind  of  castle.  They  knocked,  they  called  aloud, 
they  named  themselves,  and  asked  for  hospitality.  It 
was  then  between  ten  and  eleven  at  night,  and  towards 
the  end  of  autumn.  The  door  was  opened  to  them. 
The  master  of  the  house  came  forth.  He  made  them 
take  their  boots  off,  and  warm  themselves;  he  put  their 
horses  into  his  stables;  and  at  the  same  time  had  a 
supper  prepared  for  his  guests,  who  stood  much  in 
need  of  it.  They  did  not  wait  long  for  the  meal ;  yet 
when  served  it  proved  excellent;  the  wines  served 
with  it,  too,  were  of  several  kinds,  and  excellent  like- 
wise :  as  for  the  master  of  the  house,  he  was  so  polite 
and  respectful,  yet  without  being  ceremonious  or  eager, 

405 


4o6  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

that  it  was  evident  he  had  frequented  the  best  com- 
pany. The  courtiers  soon  learnt  that  his  name  was 
Fargues,  that  the  place  was  called  Courson,  and  that 
he  had  lived  there  in  retirement  several  years.  After 
having  supped,  Fargues  showed  each  of  them  into  a 
separate  bedroom,  where  they  were  waited  upon  by  his 
valets  with  every  proper  attention.  In  the  morning, 
as  soon  as  the  courtiers  had  dressed  themselves,  they 
found  an  excellent  breakfast  awaiting  them;  and  upon 
leaving  the  table  they  saw  their  horses  ready  for  them, 
and  as  thoroughly  attended  to  as  they  had  been  them- 
selves. Charmed  with  the  politeness  and  with  the 
manners  of  Fargues,  and  touched  by  his  hospitable  re- 
ception of  them,  they  made  him  many  offers  of  service, 
and  made  their  way  back  to  Saint  Germain.  Their 
non-appearance  on  the  previous  night  had  been  the 
common  talk,  their  return  and  the  adventure  they  had 
met  with  was  no  less  so. 

These  gentlemen  were  then  the  very  flower  of  the 
Court,  and  all  of  them  very  intimate  with  the  King. 
They  related  to  him,  therefore,  their  story,  the  man- 
ner of  their  reception,  and  highly  praised  the  master 
of  the  house  and  his  good  cheer.  The  King  asked  his 
name,  and,  as  soon  as  he  heard  it,  exclaimed,  "  What, 
Fargues !  is  he  so  near  here,  then?  "  The  courtiers  re- 
doubled their  praises,  and  the  King  said  no  more;  but 
soon  after  went  to  the  Queen-mother,  and  told  her 
what  had  happened. 

Fargues,  indeed,  was  no  stranger,  either  to  her  or  to 
the  King.  He  had  taken  a  prominent  part  in  the 
movements  of  Paris  against  the  Court  and  Cardinal 
Mazarin.  If  he  had  not  been  hanged,  it  was  because 
he  was  well  supported  by  his  party,  who  had  him  in- 
cluded in  the  amnesty  granted  to  those  who  had  been 
engaged  in  these  troubles.  Fearing,  however,  that  the 
hatred  of  his  enemies  might  place  his  life  in  danger  if 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  407 

he  remained  in  Paris,  he  retired  from  the  capital  to  this 
country-house  which  has  just  been  mentioned,  where 
he  continued  to  live  in  strict  privacy,  even  when  the 
death  of  Cardinal  Mazarin  seemed  to  render  such  se- 
clusion no  longer  necessary. 

The  King  and  the  Queen-mother,  who  had  pardoned 
Fargues  in  spite  of  themselves,  were  much  annoyed  at 
finding  that  he  was  living  in  opulence  and  tranquillity 
so  near  the  Court ;  thought  him  extremely  bold  to  do 
so;  and  determined  to  punish  him  for  this  and  for  his 
former  insolence.  They  directed  Lamoignon,  there- 
fore, to  find  out  something  in  the  past  life  of  Fargues 
for  which  punishment  might  be  awarded ;  and  La- 
moignon, eager  to  please,  and  make  a  profit  out  of  his 
eagerness,  was  not  long  in  satisfying  them.  He  made 
researches,  and  found  means  to  implicate  Fargues  in 
a  murder  that  had  been  committed  in  Paris  at  the 
height  of  the  troubles.  Officers  were  accordingly  sent 
to  Courson,  and  its  owner  was  arrested. 

Fargues  was  much  astonished  when  he  learnt  of 
what  he  was  accused.  He  exculpated  himself,  never- 
theless, completely ;  alleging,  moreover,  that  as  the 
murder  of  which  he  was  accused  had  been  committed 
during  the  troubles,  the  amnesty  in  which  he  was  in- 
cluded effaced  all  memory  of  the  deed,  according  to 
law  and  usage,  which  had  never  been  contested  until 
this  occasion.  The  courtiers  who  had  been  so  well 
treated  by  the  unhappy  man,  did  everything  they  could 
with  the  judges  and  the  King  to  obtain  the  release 
of  the  accused.  It  was  all  in  vain.  Fargues  was  de- 
capitated at  once,  and  all  his  wealth  was  given  by  way 
of  recompense  to  the  Chief-President  Lamoignon,  who 
had  no  scruple  thus  to  enrich  himself  with  the  blood 
of  the  innocent. 

The  other  person  who  died  at  the  same  time  was,  as 
I  have  said,  Ninon,  the  famous  courtesan,  known,  since 


4o8  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

age  had  compelled  her  to  quit  that  trade,  as  Mademoi- 
selle de  l'Enclos.  She  was  a  new  example  of  the  tri- 
umph of  vice  carried  on  cleverly  and  repaired  by  some 
virtue.  The  stir  that  she  made,  and  still  more  the  dis- 
order that  she  caused  among  the  highest  and  most 
brilliant  youth,  overcame  the  extreme  indulgence  that, 
not  without  cause,  the  Queen-mother  entertained  for 
persons  whose  conduct  was  gallant,  and  more  than  gal- 
lant, and  made  her  send  her  an  order  to  retire  into  a 
convent.  But  Ninon,  observing  that  no  especial  con- 
vent was  named,  said,  with  a  great  courtesy,  to  the  offi- 
cer who  brought  the  order,  that,  as  the  option  was 
left  to  her,  she  would  choose  "  the  convent  of  the 
Cordeliers  at  Paris;  "  which  impudent  joke  so  diverted 
the  Oueen  that  she  left  her  alone  for  the  future. 
Ninon  never  had  but  one  lover  at  a  time — -but  her  ad- 
mirers were  numberless — so  that  when  wearied  of  one 
incumbent  she  told  him  so  frankly,  and  took  another. 
The  abandoned  one  might  groan  and  complain;  her 
decree  was  without  appeal;  and  this  creature  had  ac- 
quired such  an  influence,  that  the  deserted  lovers  never 
dared  to  take  revenge  on  the  favoured  one,  and  were 
too  happy  to  remain  on  the  footing  of  friend  of  the 
house.  She  sometimes  kept  faithful  to  one,  when  he 
pleased  her  very  much,  during  an  entire  campaign. 

Ninon  had  illustrious  friends  of  all  sorts,  and  had  so 
much  wit  that  she  preserved  them  all  and  kept  them  on 
good  terms  with  each  other;  or,  at  least,  no  quarrels 
ever  came  to  light.  There  was  an  external  respect  and 
decency  about  everything  that  passed  in  her  house, 
such  as  princesses  of  the  highest  rank  have  rarely  been 
able  to  preserve  in  their  intrigues. 

In  this  way  she  had  among  her  friends  a  selection  of 
the  best  members  of  the  Court;  so  that  it  became  the 
fashion  to  be  received  by  her,  and  it  was  useful  to  be  so, 
on  account  of  the  connections  that  were  thus  formed. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  409 

There  was  never  any  gambling  there,  nor  loud  laugh- 
ing, nor  disputes,  nor  talk  about  religion  or  politics; 
but  much  and  elegant  wit,  ancient  and  modern  stories, 
news  of  gallantries,  yet  without  scandal.  All  was  deli- 
cate, light,  measured;  and  she  herself  maintained  the 
conversation  by  her  wit  and  her  great  knowledge  of 
facts.  The  respect  which,  strange  to  say,  she  had  ac- 
quired, and  the  number  and  distinction  of  her  friends 
and  acquaintances,  continued  when  her  charms  ceased 
to  attract;  and  when  propriety  and  fashion  compelled 
her  to  use  only  intellectual  baits.  She  knew  all  the  in- 
trigues of  the  old  and  the  new  Court,  serious  and 
otherwise ;  her  conversation  was  charming ;  she  was 
disinterested,  faithful,  secret,  safe  to  the  last  degree; 
and,  setting  aside  her  frailty,  virtuous  and  full  of 
probity.  She  frequently  succoured  her  friends  with 
money  and  influence;  constantly  did  them  the  most 
important  services,  and  very  faithfully  kept  the 
secrets  or  the  money  deposits  that  were  confided  to 
her. 

She  had  been  intimate  with  Madame  de  Maintenon 
during  the  whole  of  her  residence  at  Paris;  but  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon,  although  not  daring  to  disavow 
this  friendship,  did  not  like  to  hear  her  spoken  about. 
She  wrote  to  Ninon  with  amity  from  time  to  time,  even 
until  her  death;  and  Ninon  in  like  manner,  when  she 
wanted  to  serve  any  friend  in  whom  she  took  great  in- 
terest, wrote  to  Madame  de  Maintenon,  who  did  her 
what  service  she  required  efficaciously  and  with 
promptness.  But  since  Madame  de  Maintenon  came 
to  power,  they  had  only  seen  each  other  two  or  three 
times,  and  then  in  secret. 

Ninon  was  remarkable  for  her  repartees.  One  that 
she  made  to  the  last  Marechal  de  Choiseul  is  worth 
repeating.  The  Marechal  was  virtue  itself,  but  not 
fond  of  company  or  blessed  with  much  wit.     One  day, 


410  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

after  a  long  visit  he  had  paid  her,  Ninon  gaped,  looked 
at  the  Marechal,  and  cried : — 

"  Oh,  my  lord !  how  many  virtues  you  make  me  de- 
test!" 

A  line  from  I  know  not  what  play.  The  laughter  at 
this  may  be  imagined.  L'Enclos  lived  long  beyond 
her  eightieth  year,  always  healthy,  visited,  respected. 
She  gave  her  last  years  to  God,  and  her  death  was  the 
news  of  the  day.  The  singularity  of  this  personage 
has  made  me  extend  my  observations  upon  her. 

A  short  time  after  the  death  of  Mademoiselle  de 
l'Enclos,  a  terrible  adventure  happened  to  Courten- 
vaux,  eldest  son  of  M.  de  Louvois.  Courtenvaux  was 
commander  of  the  Cent-Suisses,  fond  of  obscure  de- 
bauches ;  with  a  ridiculous  voice,  miserly,  quarrelsome, 
though  modest  and  respectful ;  and  in  fine  a  very  stupid 
fellow.  The  King,  more  eager  to  know  all  that  was 
passing  than  most  people  believed,  although  they  gave 
him  credit  for  not  a  little  curiosity  in  this  respect, 
had  authorised  Bontems  to  engage  a  number  of  Swiss 
in  addition  to  those  posted  at  the  doors,  and  in  the 
parks  and  gardens.  These  attendants  had  orders  to 
stroll  morning,  noon,  and  night,  along  the  corridors, 
the  passages,  the  staircases,  even  into  the  private 
places,  and,  when  it  was  fine,  in  the  court-yards  and 
gardens ;  and  in  secret  to  watch  people,  to  follow  them, 
to  notice  where  they  went,  to  notice  who  was  there,  to 
listen  to  all  the  conversation  they  could  hear,  and  to 
make  reports  of  their  discoveries.  This  was  assidu- 
ously done  at  Versailles,  at  Marly,  at  Trianon,  at  Fon- 
tainebleau,  and  in  all  the  places  where  the  King  was. 
These  new  attendants  vexed  Courtenvaux  consider- 
ably, for  over  such  new-comers  he  had  no  sort  of 
authority.  This  season,  at  Fontainebleau,  a  room, 
which  had  formerly  been  occupied  by  a  party  of  the 
Cent-Suisses  and  of  the  body-guard,  was  given  up  en- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  411 

tirely  to  the  new  corps.  The  room  was  in  a  public 
passage  of  communication  indispensable  to  all  in  the 
chateau,  and  in  consequence,  excellently  well  adapted 
for  watching  those  who  passed  through  it.  Courten- 
vaux,  more  than  ever  vexed  by  this  new  arrangement, 
regarded  it  as  a  fresh  encroachment  upon  his  authority, 
and  flew  into  a  violent  rage  with  the  new-comers,  and 
railed  at  them  in  good  set  terms.  They  allowed  him 
to  fume  as  he  would ;  they  had  their  orders,  and  were 
too  wise  to  be  disturbed  by  his  rage.  The  King,  who 
heard  of  all  this,  sent  at  once  for  Courtenvaux.  As 
soon  as  he  appeared  in  the  cabinet,  the  King  called  to 
him  from  the  other  end  of  the  room,  without  giving 
him  time  to  approach,  and  in  a  rage  so  terrible,  and 
for  him  so  novel,  that  not  only  Courtenvaux,  but 
Princes,  Princesses,  and  everybody  in  the  chamber, 
trembled.  Menaces  that  his  post  should  be  taken  away 
from  him,  terms  the  most  severe  and  the  most  un- 
usual, rained  upon  Courtenvaux,  who,  fainting  with 
fright,  and  ready  to  sink  under  the  ground,  had  neither 
the  time  nor  the  means  to  prefer  a  word.  The  repri- 
mand finished  by  the  King  saying,  "  Get  out."  He 
had  scarcely  the  strength  to  obey. 

The  cause  of  this  strange  scene  was  that  Courten- 
vaux, by  the  fuss  he  had  made,  had  drawn  the  atten- 
tion of  the  whole  Court  to  the  change  effected  by  the 
King,  and  that,  when  once  seen,  its  object  was  clear 
to  all  eyes.  The  King,  who  hid  his  spy  system  with 
the  greatest  care,  had  counted  upon  this  change  pass- 
ing unperceived,  and  was  beside  himself  with  anger 
when  he  found  it  made  apparent  to  everybody  by 
Courtenvaux's  noise.  He  never  regained  the  King's 
favour  during  the  rest  of  his  life;  and  but  for  his 
family  he  would  certainly  have  been  driven  away,  and 
his  office  taken  from  him. 

Let  me  speak  now  of  something  of  more  moment. 


4i2  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

The  war,  as  I  have  said,  still  continued,  but  without 
bringing  us  any  advantages.  On  the  contrary,  our 
losses  in  Germany  and  Italy  by  sickness,  rather  than 
by  the  sword,  were  so  great  that  it  was  resolved  to  aug- 
ment each  company  by  five  men ;  and,  at  the  same  time, 
twenty-five  thousand  militia  were  raised,  thus  causing 
great  ruin  and  great  desolation  in  the  provinces.  The 
King  was  rocked  into  the  belief  that  the  people  were 
all  anxious  to  enter  this  militia,  and,  from  time  to  time, 
at  Marly,  specimens  of  those  enlisted  were  shown  to 
him,  and  their  joy  and  eagerness  to  serve  made  much 
of.  I  have  heard  this  often;  while,  at  the  same  time,  I 
knew  from  my  own  tenantry,  and  from  everything  that 
was  said,  that  the  raising  of  this  militia  carried  despair 
everywhere,  and  that  many  people  mutilated  them- 
selves in  order  to  exempt  themselves  from  serving. 
Nobody  at  the  Court  was  ignorant  of  this.  People 
lowered  their  eyes  when  they  saw  the  deceit  practised 
upon  the  King,  and  the  credulity  he  displayed,  and 
afterwards  whispered  one  to  another  what  they  thought 
of  flattery  so  ruinous.  Fresh  regiments,  too,  were 
raised  at  this  time,  and  a  crowd  of  new  colonels  and 
staffs  created,  instead  of  giving  a  new  battalion  or  a 
squadron  additional  to  regiments  already  in  existence. 
I  saw  quite  plainly  towards  what  rock  we  were  drift- 
ing. We  had  met  losses  at  Hochstedt,  Gibraltar,  and 
Barcelona;  Catalonia  and  the  neighbouring  countries 
were  in  revolt ;  Italy  yielding  us  nothing  but  miserable 
successes;  Spain  exhausted;  France,  failing  in  men  and 
money,  and  with  incapable  generals,  protected  by  the 
Court  against  their  faults.  I  saw  all  these  things  so 
plainly  that  I  could  not  avoid  making  reflections,  or 
reporting  them  to  my  friends  in  office.  I  thought  that 
it  was  time  to  finish  the  war  before  we  sank  still  lower, 
and  that  it  might  be  finished  by  giving  to  the  Arch- 
duke what  we  could  not  defend,  and  making  a  divi- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  413 

sion  of  the  rest.  My  plan  was  to  leave  Philip  V. 
possession  of  all  Italy,  except  those  parts  which  be- 
longed to  the  Grand  Duke,  the  republics  of  Venice  and 
Genoa,  and  the  ecclesiastical  states  of  Naples  and 
Sicily;  our  King  to  have  Lorraine  and  some  other 
slight  additions  of  territory;  and  to  place  elsewhere 
the  Dukes  of  Savoy,  of  Lorraine,  of  Parma,  and  of 
Modena.  I  related  this  plan  to  the  Chancellor  and  to 
Chamillart,  amongst  others.  The  contrast  between 
their  replies  was  striking.  The  Chancellor,  after  hav- 
ing listened  to  me  very  attentively,  said,  if  my  plan 
were  adopted,  he  would  most  willingly  kiss  my  toe 
for  joy.  Chamillart,  with  gravity  replied,  that  the 
King  would  not  give  up  a  single  mill  of  all  the 
Spanish  succession.  Then  I  felt  the  blindness  which 
had  fallen  upon  us,  and  how  much  the  results  of  it 
were  to  be  dreaded. 

Nevertheless,  the  King,  as  if  to  mock  at  misfortune 
and  to  show  his  enemies  the  little  uneasiness  he  felt, 
determined,  at  the  commencement  of  the  new  year, 
1706,  that  the  Court  should  be  gayer  than  ever.  He  an- 
nounced that  there  would  be  balls  at  Marly  every  time 
he  was  there  this  winter,  and  he  named  those  who  were 
to  dance  there;  and  said  he  should  be  very  glad  to  see 
balls  given  to  Madame  de  Bourgogne  at  Versailles. 
Accordingly,  many  took  place  there,  and  also  at  Marly, 
and  from  time  to  time  there  were  masquerades.  One 
day,  the  King  wished  that  everybody,  even  the  most 
aged,  who  were  at  Marly,  should  go  to  the  ball 
masked;  and,  to  avoid  all  distinction,  he  went  there 
himself  with  a  gauze  robe  above  his  habit;  but  such 
a  slight  disguise  was  for  himself  alone;  everybody  else 
was  completely  disguised.  M.  and  Madame  de  Beau- 
villiers  were  there  perfectly  disguised.  When  I  say 
they  were  there,  those  who  knew  the  Court  will  admit 
that  I  have  said  more  than  enough.     I  had  the  pleas- 


4i4  DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON 

ure  of  seeing  them,  and  of  quietly  laughing  with  them. 
At  all  these  balls  the  King  made  people  dance  who  had 
long  since  passed  the  age  for  doing  so.  As  for  the 
Comte  de  Brionne  and  the  Chevalier  de  Sully,  their 
dancing  was  so  perfect  that  there  was  no  age  for  them. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

IN  the  midst  of  all  this  gaiety,  that  is  to  say  on  the 
1 2th  of  February,  1706,  one  of  our  generals,  of 
whom  I  have  often  spoken,  I  mean  M.  de  Ven- 
dome,  arrived  at  Marly.  He  had  not  quitted  Italy 
since  succeeding  to  Marechal  de  Villeroy,  after  the 
affair  of  Cremona.  His  battles,  such  as  they  were, 
the  places  he  had  taken,  the  authority  he  had  assumed, 
the  reputation  he  had  usurped,  his  incomprehensible 
successes  with  the  King,  the  certainty  of  the  support 
he  leaned  on, — all  this  inspired  him  with  the  desire  to 
come  and  enjoy  at  Court  a  situation  so  brilliant,  and 
which  so  far  surpassed  what  he  had  a  right  to  expect. 
But  before  speaking  of  the  reception  which  was  given 
him,  and  of  the  incredible  ascendancy  he  took,  let  me 
paint  him  from  the  life  a  little  more  completely  than  I 
have  yet  done. 

Vendome  was  of  ordinary  height,  rather  stout,  but 
vigorous  and  active :  with  a  very  noble  countenance 
and  lofty  mien.  There  was  much  natural  grace  in  his 
carriage  and  words ;  he  had  a  good  deal  of  innate  wit, 
which  he  had  not  cultivated,  and  spoke  easily,  sup- 
ported by  a  natural  boldness,  which  afterwards  turned 
to  the  wildest  audacity;  he  knew  the  world  and  the 
Court;  was  above  all  things  an  admirable  courtier; 
was  polite  when  necessary,  but  insolent  when  he  dared 
— familiar  with  common  people — in  reality,  full  of  the 
most  ravenous  pride.  As  his  rank  rose  and  his  favour 
increased,  his  obstinacy,  and  pig-headedness  increased 
too,  so  that  at  last  he  would  listen  to  no  advice  what- 
ever, and  was  inaccessible  to  all,  except  a  small  num- 

415 


416  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

ber  of  familiars  and  valets.  No  one  better  than  he 
knew  the  subserviency  of  the  French  character,  or 
took  more  advantage  of  it.  Little  by  little  he  accus- 
tomed his  subalterns,  and  then  from  one  to  the  other 
all  his  army,  to  call  him  nothing  but  "  Monseigneur," 
and  "  Your  Highness."  In  time  the  gangrene  spread, 
and  even  lieutenant-generals  and  the  most  distin- 
guished people  did  not  dare  to  address  him  in  any  other 
manner. 

The  most  wonderful  thing  to  whoever  knew  the 
King — so  gallant  to  the  ladies  during  a  long  part  of 
his  life,  so  devout  the  other,  and  often  importunate 
to  make  others  do  as  he  did — was  that  the  said  King 
had  always  a  singular  horror  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
Cities  of  the  Plain;  and  yet  M.  de  Vendome,  though 
most  odiously  stained  with  that  vice — so  publicly  that 
he  treated  it  as  an  ordinary  gallantry — never  found 
his  favour  diminished  on  that  account.  The  Court, 
Anet,  the  army,  knew  of  these  abominations.  Valets 
and  subaltern  officers  soon  found  the  way  to  promo- 
tion. I  have  already  mentioned  how  publicly  he  placed 
himself  in  the  doctor's  hands,  and  how  basely  the 
Court  acted,  imitating  the  King,  who  would  never 
have  pardoned  a  legitimate  prince  what  he  indulged 
so  strangely  in  Vendome. 

The  idleness  of  M.  de  Vendome  was  equally  matter 
of  notoriety.  More  than  once  he  ran  the  risk  of  being 
taken  prisoner  from  mere  indolence.  He  rarely  him- 
self saw  anything  at  the  army,  trusting  to  his  familiars 
when  ready  to  trust  anybody.  The  way  he  employed 
his  day  prevented  any  real  attention  to  business.  He 
was  filthy  in  the  extreme,  and  proud  of  it.  Fools  called 
it  simplicity.  His  bed  was  always  full  of  dogs  and 
bitches,  who  littered  at  his  side,  the  pups  rolling  in  the 
clothes.  He  himself  was  under  constraint  in  nothing. 
One  of  his  theses  was,  that  everybody  resembled  him, 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  417 

but  was  not  honest  enough  to  confess  it  as  he  was. 
He  mentioned  this  once  to  the  Princesse  de  Conti — 
the  cleanest  person  in  the  world,  and  the  most  delicate 
in  her  cleanliness. 

He  rose  rather  late  when  at  the  army.  *  *  *  * 
In  this  situation  he  wrote  his  letters,  and  gave  his 
morning  orders.  Whoever  had  business  with  him, 
general  officers  and  distinguished  persons,  could  speak 
to  him  then.  He  had  accustomed  the  army  to  this  in- 
famy. At  the  same  time  he  gobbled  his  breakfast; 
and  whilst  he  ate,  listened,  or  gave  orders,  many  spec- 
tators always  standing  round  ...  (I  must  be  ex- 
cused these  disgraceful  details,  in  order  better  to  make 
him  known).  .  .  .  On  shaving  days  he  used  the 
same  vessel  to  lather  his  chin  in.  This,  according  to 
him,  was  a  simplicity  of  manner  worthy  of  the  ancient 
Romans,  and  which  condemned  the  splendour  and  su- 
perfluity of  the  others.  When  all  was  over,  he  dressed ; 
then  played  high  at  piquet  or  hombre;  or  rode  out, 
if  it  was  absolutely  necessary.  All  was  now  over  for 
the  day.  He  supped  copiously  with  his  familiars :  was 
a  great  eater,  of  wonderful  gluttony;  a  connoisseur  in 
no  dish,  liked  fish  much,  but  the  stale  and  stinking 
better  than  the  good.  The  meal  prolonged  itself  in 
theses  and  disputes,  and  above  all  in  praise  and  flat- 
tery. 

He  would  never  have  forgiven  the  slightest  blame 
from  any  one.  He  wanted  to  pass  for  the  first  captain 
of  his  age,  and  spoke  with  indecent  contempt  of  Prince 
Eugene  and  all  the  others.  The  faintest  contradiction 
would  have  been  a  crime.  The  soldier  and  the  subal- 
tern adored  him  for  his  familiarity  with  them,  and  the 
licence  he  allowed  in  order  to  gain  their  hearts ;  for  all 
which  he  made  up  by  excessive  haughtiness  towards 
whoever  was  elevated  by  rank  or  birth. 

On  one  occasion  the  Duke  of  Parma  sent  the  bishop 


4i8  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

of  that  place  to  negotiate  some  affair  with  him ;  but  M. 
de  Vendome  took  such  disgusting  liberties  in  his  pres- 
ence, that  the  ecclesiastic,  though  without  saying  a 
word,  returned  to  Parma,  and  declared  to  his  master 
that  never  would  he  undertake  such  an  embassy  again. 
In  his  place  another  envoy  was  sent,  the  famous  Al- 
beroni.  He  was  the  son  of  a  gardener,  who  became 
an  Abbe  in  order  to  get  on.  He  was  full  of  buffoon- 
ery; and  pleased  M.  de  Parma  as  might  a  valet  who 
amused  him,  but  he  soon  showed  talent  and  capacity 
for  affairs.  The  Duke  thought  that  the  night-chair  of 
M.  de  Vendome  required  no  other  ambassador  than 
Alberoni,  who  was  accordingly  sent  to  conclude  what 
the  bishop  had  left  undone.  The  Abbe  determined  to 
please,  and  was  not  proud.  M.  de  Vendome  exhibited 
himself  as  before;  and  Alberoni,  by  an  infamous  act  of 
personal  adoration,  gained  his  heart.  He  was  thence- 
forth much  with  him,  made  cheese-soup  and  other  odd 
messes  for  him;  and  finally  worked  his  way.  It  is  true 
he  was  cudgelled  by  some  one  he  had  offended,  for  a 
thousand  paces,  in  sight  of  the  whole  army,  but  this 
did  not  prevent  his  advancement.  Vendome  liked  such 
an  unscrupulous  flatterer ;  and  yet  as  we  have  seen,  he 
was  not  in  want  of  praise.  The  extraordinary  favour 
shown  him  by  the  King — the  credulity  with  which  his 
accounts  of  victories  were  received — showed  to  every 
one  in  what  direction  their  laudation  was  to  be  sent. 

Such  was  the  man  whom  the  King  and  the  whole 
Court  hastened  to  caress  and  flatter  from  the  first  mo- 
ment of  his  arrival  amongst  us.  There  was  a  terrible 
hubbub  :  boys,  porters,  and  valets  rallied  round  his  post- 
chaise  when  he  reached  Marly.  Scarcely  had  he  as- 
cended into  his  chamber,  than  everybody,  princes,  bas- 
tards and  all  the  rest,  ran  after  him.  The  ministers 
followed :  so  that  in  a  short  time  nobody  was  left  in  the 
salon  but  the  ladies.     M.  de  Beauvilliers  was  at  Vau- 


-r 


a 
c 

fe 


*l" 


u 


o 

o 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  419 

cresson.  As  for  me,  I  remained  spectator,  and  did  not 
go  and  adore  this  idol. 

In  a  few  minutes  Vendome  was  sent  for  by  the  King 
and  Monseigneur.  As  soon  as  he  could  dress  himself, 
surrounded  as  he  was  by  such  a  crowd,  he  went  to  the 
salon,  carried  by  it  rather  than  environed.  Monsei- 
gneur stopped  the  music  that  was  playing,  in  order 
to  embrace  him.  The  King  left  the  cabinet  where  he 
was  at  work,  and  came  out  to  meet  him,  embracing 
him  several  times.  Chamillart  on  the  morrow  gave 
a  fete  in  his  honour  at  L'Etang,  which  lasted  two  days. 
Following  his  example,  Pontchartrain,  Torcy,  and  the 
most  distinguished  lords  of  the  Court,  did  the  same. 
People  begged  and  entreated  to  give  him  fetes;  people 
begged  and  entreated  to  be  invited  to  them.  Never 
was  triumph  equal  to  his;  each  step  he  took  procured 
him  a  new  one.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say,  that  every- 
body disappeared  before  him;  Princes  of  the  blood, 
ministers,  the  grandest  seigneurs,  all  appeared  only  to 
show  how  high  he  was  above  them;  even  the  King 
seemed  only  to  remain  King  to  elevate  him  more. 

The  people  joined  in  this  enthusiasm,  both  in  Ver- 
sailles and  at  Paris,  where  he  went  under  pretence  of 
going  to  the  opera.  As  he  passed  along  the  streets 
crowds  collected  to  cheer  him;  they  billed  him  at  the 
doors,  and  every  seat  was  taken  in  advance;  people 
pushed  and  squeezed  everywhere,  and  the  price  of  ad- 
mission was  doubled,  as  on  the  nights  of  first  perform- 
ances. Vendome,  who  received  all  these  homages  with 
extreme  ease,  was  yet  internally  surprised  by  a  folly  so 
universal.  He  feared  that  all  this  heat  would  not  last 
out  even  the  short  stay  he  intended  to  make.  To  keep 
himself  more  in  reserve,  he  asked  and  obtained  per- 
mission to  go  to  Anet,  in  the  intervals  between  the 
journeys  to  Marly.  All  the  Court,  however,  followed 
him  there,  and  the  King  was  pleased  rather  than  other - 

Vol.  11  Memoirs — N 


420  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

wise,  at  seeing  Versailles  half  deserted  for  Anet, 
actually  asking  some  if  they  had  been,  others,  when 
they  intended  to  go. 

It  was  evident  that  every  one  had  resolved  to  raise 
M.  de  Vendome  to  the  rank  of  a  hero.  He  determined 
to  profit  by  the  resolution.  If  they  made  him  Mars, 
why  should  he  not  act  as  such  ?  He  claimed  to  be  ap- 
pointed commander  of  the  Marechals  of  France,  and 
although  the  King  refused  him  this  favour,  he  accorded 
him  one  which  was  but  the  stepping-stone  to  it.  M.  de 
Vendome  went  away  towards  the  middle  of  March  to 
command  the  army  in  Italy,  with  a  letter  signed  by  the 
King  himself,  promising  him  that  if  a  Marechal  of 
France  were  sent  to  Italy,  that  Marechal  was  to  take 
commands  from  him.  M.  de  Vendome  was  content, 
and  determined  to  obtain  all  he  asked  on  a  future  day. 
The  disposition  of  the  armies  had  been  arranged  just 
before.  Tesse,  for  Catalonia  and  Spain;  Berwick,  for 
the  frontier  of  Portugal;  Marechal  Villars,  for  Alsace; 
Marsin,  for  the  Moselle;  Marechal  de  Villeroy,  for 
Flanders;  and  M.  de  Vendome,  as  I  have  said,  for 
Italy. 

Now  that  I  am  speaking  of  the  armies,  let  me  give 
here  an  account  of  all  our  military  operations  this  year, 
so  as  to  complete  that  subject  at  once. 

M.  de  Vendome  commenced  his  Italian  campaign  by 
a  victory.  He  attacked  the  troops  of  Prince  Eugene 
upon  the  heights  of  Calcinato,  drove  them  before  him, 
killed  three  thousand  men,  took  twenty  standards,  ten 
pieces  of  cannon,  and  eight  thousand  prisoners.  It  was 
a  rout  rather  than  a  combat.  The  enemy  was  much 
inferior  in  force  to  us,  and  was  without  its  general, 
Prince  Eugene,  he  not  having  returned  to  open  the 
campaign.  He  came  back,  however,  the  day  after  this 
engagement,  soon  re-established  order  among  his 
troops,  and  M.  de  Vendome  from  that  time,  far  from 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  421 

being  able  to  recommence  the  attack,  was  obliged  to 
keep  strictly  on  the  defensive  while  he  remained  in 
Italy.  He  did  not  fail  to  make  the  most  of  his  victory, 
which,  however,  to  say  the  truth,  led  to  nothing. 

Our  armies  just  now  were,  it  must  be  admitted,  in 
by  no  means  a  good  condition.  The  generals  owed 
their  promotion  to  favour  and  fantasy.  The  King 
thought  he  gave  them  capacity  when  he  gave  them 
their  patents.  Under  M.  de  Turenne  the  army  had 
afforded,  as  in  a  school,  opportunities  for  young  offi- 
cers to  learn  the  art  of  warfare,  and  to  qualify  them- 
selves step  by  step  to  take  command.  They  were 
promoted  as  they  showed  signs  of  their  capacity,  and 
gave  proof  of  their  talent.  Now,  however,  it  was  very 
different.  Promotion  was  granted  according  to  length 
of  service,  thus  rendering  all  application  and  diligence 
unnecessary,  except  when  M.  de  Louvois  suggested  to 
the  King  such  officers  as  he  had  private  reasons  for 
being  favourable  to,  and  whose  actions  he  could  con- 
trol. He  persuaded  the  King  that  it  was  he  himself 
who  ought  to  direct  the  armies  from  his  cabinet.  The 
King,  flattered  by  this,  swallowed  the  bait,  and  Lou- 
vois himself  was  thus  enabled  to  govern  in  the  name 
of  the  King,  to  keep  the  generals  in  leading-strings, 
and  to  fetter  their  every  movement.  In  consequence 
of  the  way  in  which  promotions  were  made,  the  great- 
est ignorance  prevailed  amongst  all  grades  of  officers. 
None  knew  scarcely  anything  more  than  mere  routine 
duties,  and  sometimes  not  even  so  much  as  that.  The 
luxury  which  had  inundated  the  army,  too,  where 
everybody  wished  to  live  as  delicately  as  at  Paris, 
hindered  the  general  officers  from  associating  with  the 
other  officers,  and  in  consequence  from  knowing  and 
appreciating  them.  As  a  matter  of  course,  there  were 
no  longer  any  deliberations  upon  the  state  of  affairs, 
in  which  the  young  might  profit  by  the  counsels  of  the 


422  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

old,  and  the  army  profit  by  the  discussions  of  all.  The 
young  officers  talked  only  of  pay  and  women;  the  old, 
of  forage  and  equipages;  the  generals  spent  half  their 
time  in  writing  costly  despatches,  often  useless,  and 
sending  them  away  by  couriers.  The  luxury  of  the 
Court  and  city  had  spread  into  the  army,  so  that  deli- 
cacies were  carried  there  unknown  formerly.  Noth- 
ing was  spoken  of  but  hot  dishes  in  the  marches  and 
in  the  detachments;  and  the  repasts  that  were  carried 
to  the  trenches,  during  sieges,  were  not  only  well 
served,  but  ices  and  fruits  were  partaken  of  as  at  a  fete, 
and  a  profusion  of  all  sorts  of  liqueurs.  Expense 
ruined  the  officers,  who  vied  with  one  another  in  their 
endeavours  to  appear  magnificent;  and  the  things  to 
be  carried,  the  work  to  be  done,  quadrupled  the  num- 
ber of  domestics  and  grooms,  who  often  starved.  For 
a  long  time,  people  had  complained  of  all  this;  even 
those  who  were  put  to  the  expenses,  which  ruined 
them;  but  none  dared  to  spend  less.  At  last,  that  is 
to  say,  in  the  spring  of  the  following  year,  the  King 
made  severe  rules,  with  the  object  of  bringing  about 
a  reform  in  this  particular.  There  is  no  country  in 
Europe  where  there  are  so  many  fine  laws,  or  where 
the  observance  of  them  is  of  shorter  duration.  It  often 
happens,  that  in  the  first  year  all  are  infringed,  and 
in  the  second,  forgotten.  Such  was  the  army  at  this 
time,  and  we  soon  had  abundant  opportunities  to  note 
its  incapacity  to  overcome  the  enemies  with  whom  we 
had  to  contend. 

The  King  wished  to  open  this  campaign  with  two 
battles;  one  in  Italy,  the  other  in  Flanders.  His  de- 
sire was  to  some  extent  gratified  in  the  former  case; 
but  in  the  other  he  met  with  a  sad  and  cruel  dis- 
appointment. Since  the  departure  of  Marechal  de 
Villeroy  for  Flanders,  the  King  had  more  than  once 
pressed  him  to  engage  the  enemy.     The   Marechal, 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  423 

piqued  with  these  reiterated  orders,  which  he  consid- 
ered as  reflections  upon  his  courage,  determined  to 
risk  anything  in  order  to  satisfy  the  desire  of  the  King. 
But  the  King  did  not  wish  this.  At  the  same  time  that 
he  wished  for  a  battle  in  Flanders,  he  wished  to  place 
Villeroy  in  a  state  to  fight  it.  He  sent  orders,  there- 
fore, to  Marsin  to  take  eighteen  battalions  and  twenty 
squadrons  of  his  army,  to  proceed  to  the  Moselle, 
where  he  would  find  twenty  others,  and  then  to  march 
with  the  whole  into  Flanders,  and  join  Marechal  de 
Villeroy.  At  the  same  time  he  prohibited  the  latter 
from  doing  anything  until  this  reinforcement  reached 
him.  Four  couriers,  one  after  the  other,  carried  this 
prohibition  to  the  Marechal ;  but  he  had  determined  to 
give  battle  without  assistance,  and  he  did  so,  with  what 
result  will  be  seen. 

On  the  24th  of  May  he  posted  himself  between  the 
villages  of  Taviers  and  Ramillies.  He  was  superior 
in  force  to  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  who  was  opposed 
to  him,  and  this  fact  gave  him  confidence.  Yet  the 
position  which  he  had  taken  up  was  one  which  was 
well  known  to  be  bad.  The  late  M.  de  Luxembourg 
had  declared  it  so,  and  had  avoided  it.  M.  de  Villeroy 
had  been  a  witness  of  this,  but  it  was  his  destiny  and 
that  of  France  that  he  should  forget  it.  Before  he 
took  up  this  position  he  announced  that  it  was  his  in- 
tention to  do  so  to  M.  d'Orleans.  M.  d'Orleans  said 
publicly  to  all  who  came  to  listen,  that  if  M.  de  Villeroy 
did  so  he  would  be  beaten.  M.  d'Orleans  proved  to 
be  only  too  good  a  prophet. 

Just  as  M.  de  Villeroy  had  taken  up  his  position  and 
made  his  arrangements,  the  Elector  arrived  in  hot 
haste  from  Brussels.  It  was  too  late  now  to  blame 
what  had  been  done.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but 
to  complete  what  had  been  already  begun,  and  await 
the  result. 


424  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

It  was  about  two  hours  after  midday  when  the 
enemy  arrived  within  range,  and  came  under  our  fire 
from  Ramillies.  It  forced  them  to  halt  until  their 
cannon  could  be  brought  into  play,  which  was  soon 
done.  The  cannonade  lasted  a  good  hour.  At  the 
end  of  that  time  they  marched  to  Taviers,  where  a 
part  of  our  army  was  posted,  found  but  little  re- 
sistance, and  made  themselves  masters  of  that  place. 
From  that  moment  they  brought  their  cavalry  to  bear. 
They  perceived  that  there  was  a  marsh  which  covered 
our  left,  but  which  hindered  our  two  wings  from  join- 
ing. They  made  good  use  of  the  advantage  this  gave 
them.  We  were  taken  in  the  rear  at  more  than  one 
point,  and  Taviers  being  no  longer  able  to  assist  us, 
Ramillies  itself  fell,  after  a  prodigious  fire  and  an 
obstinate  resistance.  The  Comte  de  Guiche  at  the  head 
of  the  regiment  of  Guards  defended  it  for  four  hours, 
and  performed  prodigies,  but  in  the  end  he  was 
obliged  to  give  way.  All  this  time  our  left  had  been 
utterly  useless  with  its  nose  in  the  marsh,  no  enemy  in 
front  of  it,  and  with  strict  orders  not  to  budge  from 
its  position. 

Our  retreat  commenced  in  good  order,  but  soon  the 
night  came  and  threw  us  into  confusion.  The  defile 
of  Judoigne  became  so  gorged  with  baggage  and  with 
the  wrecks  of  the  artillery  we  had  been  able  to  save, 
that  everything  was  taken  from  us  there.  Neverthe- 
less, we  arrived  at  Louvain,  and  then  not  feeling  in 
safety,  passed  the  canal  of  Wilworde  without  being 
very  closely  followed  by  the  enemy. 

We  lost  in  this  battle  four  thousand  men,  and  many 
prisoners  of  rank,  all  of  whom  were  treated  with  much 
politeness  by  Marlborough.  Brussels  was  one  of  the 
first-fruits  he  gathered  of  this  victory,  which  had  such 
grave  and  important  results. 

The  King  did  not  learn  this  disaster  until  Wednes- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  425 

day,  the  26th  of  May,  at  his  waking.  I  was  at  Ver- 
sailles. Never  was  such  trouble  or  such  consternation. 
The  worst  was,  that  only  the  broad  fact  was  known; 
for  six  days  we  were  without  a  courier  to  give  us 
details.  Even  the  post  was  stopped.  Days  seemed 
like  years  in  the  ignorance  of  everybody  as  to  details, 
and  in  the  inquietude  of  everybody  for  relatives  and 
friends.  The  King  was  forced  to  ask  one  and  an- 
other for  news ;  but  nobody  could  tell  him  any.  Worn 
out  at  last  by  the  silence,  he  determined  to  despatch 
Chamillart  to  Flanders  to  ascertain  the  real  state  of 
affairs.  Chamillart  accordingly  left  Versailles  on  Sun- 
day, the  30th  of  May,  to  the  astonishment  of  all  the 
Court,  at  seeing  a  man  charged  with  the  war  and  the 
finance  department  sent  on  such  an  errand.  He  aston- 
ished no  less  the  army  when  he  arrived  at  Courtrai, 
where  it  had  stationed  itself.  Having  gained  all  the 
information  he  sought,  Chamillart  returned  to  Ver- 
sailles on  Friday,  the  4th  of  June,  at  about  eight  o'clock 
in  the  evening,  and  at  once  went  to  the  King,  who  was 
in  the  apartments  of  Madame  de  Maintenon.  It  was 
known  then  that  the  army,  after  several  hasty  marches, 
finding  itself  at  Ghent,  the  Elector  of  Bavaria  had  in- 
sisted that  it  ought  at  least  to  remain  there.  A  coun- 
cil of  war  was  held,  the  Marechal  de  Villeroy,  who  was 
quite  discouraged  by  the  loss  he  had  sustained,  op- 
posed the  advice  of  the  Elector.  Ghent  was  aban- 
doned, so  was  the  open  country.  The  army  was  sep- 
arated and  distributed  here  and  there,  under  the  com- 
mand of  the  general  officers.  In  this  way,  with  the 
exception  of  Namur,  Mons,  and  a  very  few  other 
places,  all  the  Spanish  Low  Countries  were  lost,  and 
a  part  of  ours,  even.  Never  was  rapidity  equal  to 
this.     The  enemies  were  as  much  astonished  as  we. 

However  tranquilly  the  King  sustained  in  appear- 
ance this  misfortune,  he  felt  it  to  the  quick.     He  was 


426  DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON 

so  affected  by  what  was  said  of  his  body-guards,  that 
he  spoke  of  them  himself  with  bitterness.  Court  war- 
riors testified  in  their  favour,  but  persuaded  nobody. 
But  the  King  seized  these  testimonies  with  joy,  and 
sent  word  to  the  Guards  that  he  was  well  contended 
with  them.  Others,  however,  were  not  so  easily  satis- 
fied. 

This  sad  reverse  and  the  discontent  of  the  Elector 
made  the  King  feel  at  last  that  his  favourites  must 
give  way  to  those  better  able  to  fill  their  places. 
Villeroy,  who,  since  his  defeat,  had  quite  lost  his  head, 
and  who,  if  he  had  been  a  general  of  the  Empire,  would 
have  lost  it  in  reality  in  another  manner,  received 
several  strong  hints  from  the  King  that  he  ought  to 
give  up  his  command.  But  he  either  could  not  or 
would  not  understand  them,  and  so  tired  out  the  King's 
patience,  at  length.  But  he  was  informed  in  language 
which  admitted  of  no  misapprehension  that  he  must 
return.  Even  then,  the  King  was  so  kindly  disposed 
towards  him,  that  he  said  the  Marechal  had  begged  to 
be  recalled  with  such  obstinacy  that  he  could  not  re- 
fuse him.  But  M.  de  Villeroy  was  absurd  enough  to 
reject  this  salve  for  his  honour;  which  led  to  his  dis- 
grace. M.  de  Vendome  had  orders  to  leave  Italy,  and 
succeed  to  the  command  in  Flanders,  where  the  ene- 
mies had  very  promptly  taken  Ostend  and  Nieuport. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

MEANWHILE,  as  I  have  promised  to  relate,  in 
a  continuous  narrative,  all  our  military  opera- 
tions of  this  year,  let  me  say  what  passed  in 
other  directions.  The  siege  of  Barcelona  made  no 
progress.  Our  engineers  were  so  slow  and  so  ig- 
norant, that  they  did  next  to  nothing.  They  were  so 
venal,  too,  that  they  aided  the  enemy  rather  than  us 
by  their  movements.  According  to  a  new  rule  made 
by  the  King,  whenever  they  changed  the  position  of 
their  guns,  they  were  entitled  to  a  pecuniary  recom- 
pense. Accordingly,  they  passed  all  their  time  in  use- 
lessly changing  about  from  place  to  place,  in  order  to 
receive  the  recompense  which  thus  became  due  to 
them. 

Our  fleet,  too,  hearing  that  a  much  superior  naval 
force  was  coming  to  the  assistance  of  the  enemy,  and 
being,  thanks  to  Pontchartrain,  utterly  unable  to  meet 
it,  was  obliged  to  weigh  anchor,  and  sailed  away  to 
Toulon.  The  enemy's  fleet  arrived,  and  the  besieged 
at  once  took  new  courage.  Tesse,  who  had  joined  the 
siege,  saw  at  once  that  it  was  useless  to  continue  it. 
We  had  for  some  time  depended  upon  the  open  sea 
for  supplies.  Now  that  the  English  fleet  had  arrived, 
we  could  depend  upon  the  sea  no  longer.  The  King 
of  Spain  saw,  at  last,  that  there  was  no  help  for  it 
but  to  raise  the  siege. 

It  was  raised  accordingly  on  the  night  between  the 
ioth  and  nth  of  May,  after  fourteen  days'  bombard- 
ment. We  abandoned  one  hundred  pieces  of  artillery; 
one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  pounds  of  powder; 

427 


428  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

thirty  thousand  sacks  of  flour;  twenty  thousand  sacks 
of  sevade,  a  kind  of  oats ;  and  a  great  number  of  bombs, 
cannon-balls,  and  implements.  As  Catalonia  was  in 
revolt,  it  was  felt  that  retreat  could  not  take  place  in 
that  direction;  it  was  determined,  therefore,  to  retire 
by  the  way  of  the  French  frontier.  For  eight  days, 
however,  our  troops  were  harassed  in  flank  and  rear  by 
Miquelets,  who  followed  us  from  mountain  to  moun- 
tain. It  was  not  until  the  Due  de  Noailles,  whose 
father  had  done  some  service  to  the  chiefs  of  these 
Miquelets,  had  parleyed  with  them,  and  made  terms 
with  them,  that  our  troops  were  relieved  from  these 
cruel  wasps.  We  suffered  much  loss  in  our  retreat, 
which,  with  the  siege,  cost  us  full  four  thousand  men. 
The  army  stopped  at  Roussillon,  and  the  King  of 
Spain,  escorted  by  two  regiments  of  dragoons,  made 
the  best  of  his  way  to  Madrid.  That  city  was  itself  in 
danger  from  the  Portuguese,  and,  indeed,  fell  into 
their  hands  soon  after.  The  Queen,  who,  with  her 
children,  had  left  it  in  time  to  avoid  capture,  felt  mat- 
ters to  be  in  such  extremity,  that  she  despatched  all  the 
jewels  belonging  to  herself  and  her  husband  to  France. 
They  were  placed  in  the  custody  of  the  King.  Among 
them  was  that  famous  pear-shaped  pearl  called  the 
Peregrine,  which,  for  its  weight,  its  form,  its  size,  and 
its  water,  is  beyond  all  price  and  all  comparison. 

The  King  of  Spain  effected  a  junction  with  the  army 
of  Berwick,  and  both  set  to  work  to  reconquer  the 
places  the  Portuguese  had  taken  from  them.  In  this 
they  were  successful.  The  Portuguese,  much  harassed 
by  the  people  of  Castille,  were  forced  to  abandon  all 
they  had  gained;  and  the  King  of  Spain  was  enabled 
to  enter  Madrid  towards  the  end  of  September,  where 
he  was  received  with  much  rejoicing. 

In  Italy  we  experienced  the  most  disastrous  mis- 
fortunes.    M.  de  Vendome,  having  been  called  from 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  429 

the  command  to  go  into  Flanders,  M.  d'Orleans,  after 
some  deliberation,  was  appointed  to  take  his  place. 
M.  d'Orleans  set  out  from  Paris  on  the  1st  of  July, 
with  twenty-eight  horses  and  five  chaises,  to  arrive  in 
three  days  at  Lyons,  and  then  to  hasten  on  into  Italy. 
La  Feuillade  was  besieging  Turin.  M.  d'Orleans 
went  to  the  siege.  He  was  magnificently  received  by 
La  Feuillade,  and  shown  all  over  the  works.  He 
found  everything  defective.  La  Feuillade  was  very 
young,  and  very  inexperienced.  I  have  already  re- 
lated an  adventure  of  his,  that  of  his  seizing  upon  the 
coffers  of  his  uncle,  and  so  forestalling  his  inheritance. 
To  recover  from  the  disgrace  this  occurrence  brought 
upon  him,  he  had  married  a  daughter  of  Chamillart. 
Favoured  by  this  minister,  but  coldly  looked  upon  by 
the  King,  he  had  succeeded  in  obtaining  command  in 
the  army,  and  had  been  appointed  to  conduct  this 
siege.  Inflated  by  the  importance  of  his  position,  and 
by  the  support  of  Chamillart,  he  would  listen  to  no 
advice  from  any  one.  M.  d'Orleans  attempted  to 
bring  about  some  changes,  and  gave  orders  to  that 
effect.  But  as  soon  as  he  was  gone,  La  Feuillade 
countermanded  those  orders  and  had  everything  his 
own  way.  The  siege  accordingly  went  on  with  the 
same  ill-success  as  before. 

M.  d'Orleans  joined  M.  de  Vendome  on  the  17th 
of  July,  upon  the  Mincio.  The  pretended  hero  had 
just  made  some  irreparable  faults.  He  had  allowed 
Prince  Eugene  to  pass  the  Po,  nearly  in  front  of  him, 
and  nobody  knew  what  had  become  of  twelve  of  our 
battalions  posted  near  the  place  where  this  passage 
had  been  made.  Prince  Eugene  had  taken  all  the 
boats  that  we  had  upon  the  river.  We  could  not  cross 
it,  therefore,  and  follow  the  enemy  without  making  a 
bridge.  Vendome  feared  lest  his  faults  should  be  per- 
ceived.    He  wished  that  his  successor  should  remain 


430  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

charged  with  them.  M.  d'Orleans,  indeed,  soon  saw 
all  the  faults  that  M.  de  Vendome  had  committed,  and 
tried  hard  to  induce  the  latter  to  aid  him  to  repair 
them.  But  M.  de  Vendome  would  not  listen  to  his 
representations,  and  started  away  almost  immediately 
to  take  the  command  of  the  army  in  Flanders,  leav- 
ing M.  d'Orleans  to  get  out  of  the  difficulty  as  he 
might. 

M.  d'Orleans,  abandoned  to  himself  (except  when 
interfered  with  by  Marechal  de  Marsin,  under  whose 
tutelage  he  was),  could  do  nothing.  He  found  as 
much  opposition  to  his  plans  from  Marsin  as  he  had 
found  from  M.  de  Vendome.  Marsin  wished  to  keep 
in  the  good  graces  of  La  Feuillade,  son-in-law  of  the 
all-powerful  minister,  and  would  not  adopt  the  views 
of  M.  d'Orleans.  This  latter  had  proposed  to  dispute 
the  passage  of  the  Tanaro,  a  confluent  of  the  Po,  with 
the  enemy,  or  compel  them  to  accept  battle.  An  in- 
tercepted letter,  in  cypher,  from  Prince  Eugene  to  the 
Emperor,  which  fell  into  our  hands,  proved,  subse- 
quently, that  this  course  would  have  been  the  right 
one  to  adopt;  but  the  proof  came  too  late;  the  de- 
cyphering  table  having  been  forgotten  at  Versailles ! 
M.  d'Orleans  had  in  the  mean  time  been  forced  to  lead 
his  army  to  Turin,  to  assist  the  besiegers,  instead  of 
waiting  to  stop  the  passage  of  the  troops  that  were 
destined  for  the  aid  of  the  besieged.  He  arrived  at 
Turin  on  the  28th  of  August,  in  the  evening.  La 
Feuillade,  now  under  two  masters,  grew,  it  might  be 
imagined,  more  docile.  But  no!  He  allied  himself 
with  Marsin  (without  whom  M.  d'Orleans  could  do 
nothing),  and  so  gained  him  over  that  they  acted  com- 
pletely in  accord.  When  M.  d'Orleans  was  convinced, 
soon  after  his  arrival,  that  the  enemy  was  approaching 
to  succour  Turin,  he  suggested  that  they  should  be 
opposed  as  they  attempted  the  passage  of  the  Dora. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  431 

But  his  advice  was  not  listened  to.  He  was  displeased 
with  everything.  He  found  that  all  the  orders  he  had 
given  had  been  disregarded.  He  found  the  siege 
works  bad,  imperfect,  very  wet,  and  very  ill-guarded. 
He  tried  to  remedy  all  these  defects,  but  he  was  op- 
posed at  every  step.  A  council  of  war  was  held.  M. 
d'Orleans  stated  his  views,  but  all  the  officers  present, 
with  one  honourable  exception,  servilely  chimed  in 
with  the  views  of  Marsin  and  La  Feuillade,  and  things 
remained  as  they  were.  M.  d'Orleans,  thereupon, 
protested  that  he  washed  his  hands  of  all  the  mis- 
fortunes that  might  happen  in  consequence  of  his  ad- 
vice being  neglected.  He  declared  that  as  he  was  no 
longer  master  over  anything,  it  was  not  just  that  he 
should  bear  any  part  of  the  blame  which  would  entail 
to  those  in  command.  He  asked,  therefore,  for  his 
post-chaise,  and  wished  immediately  to  quit  the  army. 
La  Feuillade  and  Marsin,  however,  begged  him  to  re- 
main, and  upon  second  thoughts  he  thought  it  better 
to  do  so.  The  simple  reason  of  all  this  opposition  was, 
that  La  Feuillade,  being  very  young  and  very  vain, 
wished  to  have  all  the  honours  of  the  siege.  He  was 
afraid  that  if  the  counsel  of  M.  d'Orleans  prevailed, 
some  of  that  honour  would  be  taken  from  him.  This 
was  the  real  reason,  and  to  this  France  owes  the  dis- 
astrous failure  of  the  siege  of  Turin. 

After  the  council  of  war,  M.  d'Orleans  ceased  to  take 
any  share  in  the  command,  walked  about  or  stopped  at 
home,  like  a  man  who  had  nothing  to  do  with  what 
was  passing  around  him.  On  the  night  of  the  6th 
to  the  7th  of  September,  he  rose  from  his  bed  alarmed 
by  information  sent  to  him  in  a  letter,  that  Prince 
Eugene  was  about  to  attack  the  castle  of  Pianezza,  in 
order  to  cross  the  Dora,  and  so  proceed  to  attack  the 
besiegers.  He  hastened  at  once  to  Marsin,  showed 
him  the  letter,  and  recommended  that  troops  should 


432  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

at  once  be  sent  to  dispute  the  passage  of  a  brook  that 
the  enemies  had  yet  to  cross,  even  supposing  them  to 
be  masters  of  Pianezza.  Even  as  he  was  speaking, 
confirmation  of  the  intelligence  he  had  received  was 
brought  by  one  of  our  officers.  But  it  was  resolved, 
in  the  Eternal  decrees,  that  France  should  be  struck  to 
the  heart  that  day. 

Marsin  would  listen  to  none  of  the  arguments  of 
M.  d'Orleans.  He  maintained  that  it  would  be  unsafe 
to  leave  the  lines ;  that  the  news  was  false ;  that  Prince 
Eugene  could  not  possibly  arrive  so  promptly;  he 
would  give  no  orders;  and  he  counselled  M.  d'Orleans 
to  go  back  to  bed.  The  Prince,  more  piqued  and  more 
disgusted  than  ever,  retired  to  his  quarters  fully  re- 
solved to  abandon  everything  to  the  blind  and  deaf, 
who  would  neither  see  nor  hear. 

Soon  after  entering  his  chamber  the  news  spread 
from  all  parts  of  the  arrival  of  Prince  Eugene.  He 
did  not  stir.  Some  general  officers  came,  and  forced 
him  to  mount  his  horse.  He  went  forth  negligently  at 
a  walking  pace.  What  had  taken  place  during  the 
previous  days  had  made  so  much  noise  that  even  the 
common  soldiers  were  ashamed  of  it.  They  liked  him, 
and  murmured  because  he  would  no  longer  command 
them.  One  of  them  called  him  by  his  name,  and  asked 
him  if  he  refused  them  his  sword.  This  question  did 
more  than  all  that  the  general  officers  had  been  able 
to  do.  M.  d'Orleans  replied  to  the  soldier,  that  he 
would  not  refuse  to  serve  them,  and  at  once  resolved 
to  lend  all  his  aid  to  Marsin  and  La  Feuillade. 

But  it  was  no  longer  possible  to  leave  the  lines.  The 
enemy  was  in  sight,  and  advanced  so  diligently,  that 
there  was  no  time  to  make  arrangements.  Marsin, 
more  dead  than  alive,  was  incapable  of  giving  any 
order  or  any  advice.  But  La  Feuillade  still  persevered 
in  his  obstinacy.     He  disputed  the  orders  of  the  Due 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  433 

d'Orleans,   and  prevented   their  execution,   possessed 
by  I  know  not  what  demon. 

The  attack  was  commenced  about  ten  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  was  pushed  with  incredible  vigour,  and  sus- 
tained, at  first,  in  the  same  manner.  Prince  Eugene 
poured  his  troops  into  those  places  which  the  small- 
ness  of  our  forces  had  compelled  us  to  leave  open. 
Marsin,  towards  the  middle  of  the  battle,  received  a 
wound  which  incapacitated  him  from  further  service, 
and  was  taken  prisoner  immediately  after.  Le  Feuil- 
lade  ran  about  like  a  madman,  tearing  his  hair,  and 
incapable  of  giving  any  order.  The  Due  d'Orleans 
preserved  his  coolness,  and  did  wonders  to  save  the 
day.  Finding  our  men  beginning  to  waver,  he  called 
the  officers  by  their  names,  aroused  the  soldiers  by  his 
voice,  and  himself  led  the  squadrons  and  battalions  to 
the  charge.  Vanquished  at  last  by  pain,  and  weakened 
by  the  blood  he  had  lost,  he  was  constrained  to  retire 
a  little,  to  have  his  wounds  dressed.  He  scarcely  gave 
himself  time  for  this,  however,  but  returned  at  once 
where  the  fire  was  hottest.  Three  times  the  enemy 
had  been  repulsed  and  their  guns  spiked  by  one  of 
our  officers,  Le  Guerchois,  with  his  brigade  of  the  old 
marine,  when,  enfeebled  by  the  losses  he  had  sustained, 
he  called  upon  a  neighbouring  brigade  to  advance  with 
him  to  oppose  a  number  of  fresh  battalions  the  enemy 
had  sent  against  him.  This  brigade  and  its  brigadier 
refused  bluntly  to  aid  him.  It  was  positively  known 
afterwards,  that  had  Le  Guerchois  sustained  this  fourth 
charge,  Prince  Eugene  would  have  retreated. 

This  was  the  last  moment  of  the  little  order  that 
there  had  been  at  this  battle.  All  that  followed  was 
only  trouble,  confusion,  disorder,  flight,  discomfiture. 
The  most  terrible  thing  is,  that  the  general  officers, 
with  but  few  exceptions,  more  intent  upon  their  equi- 
page and  upon  what  they  had  saved  by  pillage,  added 


434  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

to  the  confusion  instead  of  diminishing  it,  and  were 
worse  than  useless. 

M.  d'Orleans,  convinced  at  last  that  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  re-establish  the  day,  thought  only  how  to  retire 
as  advantageously  as  possible.  He  withdrew  his  light 
artillery,  his  ammunition,  everything  that  was  at  the 
siege,  even  at  the  most  advanced  of  its  works,  and  at- 
tended to  everything  with  a  presence  of  mind  that 
allowed  nothing  to  escape  him.  Then,  gathering 
round  him  all  the  officers  he  could  collect,  he  explained 
to  them  that  nothing  but  retreat  was  open  to  them, 
and  that  the  road  to  Italy  was  that  which  they  ought 
to  pursue.  By  this  means  they  would  leave  the  vic- 
torious army  of  the  enemy  in  a  country  entirely  ruined 
and  desolate,  and  hinder  it  from  returning  into  Italy, 
where  the  army  of  the  King,  on  the  contrary,  would 
have  abundance,  and  where  it  would  cut  off  all  succour 
from  the  others. 

This  proposition  dismayed  to  the  last  degree  our 
officers,  who  hoped  at  least  to  reap  the  fruit  of  this 
disaster  by  returning  to  France  with  the  money  with 
which  they  were  gorged.  La  Feuillade  opposed  it 
with  so  much  impatience,  that  the  Prince,  exasperated 
by  an  effrontery  so  sustained,  told  him  to  hold  his 
peace  and  let  others  speak.  Others  did  speak,  but 
only  one  was  for  following  the  counsel  of  M. 
d'Orleans.  Feeling  himself  now,  however,  the  mas- 
ter, he  stopped  all  further  discussion,  and  gave  orders 
that  the  retreat  to  Italy  should  commence.  This  was 
all  he  could  do.  His  body  and  his  brain  were  equally 
exhausted.  After  having  waited  some  little  time,  he 
was  compelled  to  throw  himself  into  a  post-chaise, 
and  in  that  to  continue  the  journey. 

The  officers  obeyed  his  orders  most  unwillingly. 
They  murmured  amongst  each  other  so  loudly  that 
the  Due  d'Orleans,  justly  irritated  by  so  much  oppo- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  435 

sition  to  his  will,  made  them  hold  their  peace.  The 
retreat  continued.  But  it  was  decreed  that  the  spirit 
of  error  and  vertigo  should  ruin  us  and  save  the  allies. 
As  the  army  was  about  to  cross  the  bridge  over  the 
Ticino,  and  march  into  Italy,  information  was  brought 
to  M.  d'Orleans,  that  the  enemy  occupied  the  roads 
by  which  it  was  indispensable  to  pass.  M.  d'Orleans, 
not  believing  this  intelligence,  persisted  in  going  for- 
ward. Our  officers,  thus  foiled,  for  it  was  known 
afterwards  that  the  story  was  their  invention,  and  that 
the  passes  were  entirely  free,  hit  upon  another  expe- 
dient. They  declared  there  were  no  more  provisions 
or  ammunition,  and  that  it  was  accordingly  impossible 
to  go  into  Italy.  M.  d'Orleans,  worn  out  by  so  much 
criminal  disobedience,  and  weakened  by  his  wound, 
could  hold  out  no  longer.  He  threw  himself  back  in 
the  chaise,  and  said  they  might  go  where  they  would. 
The  army  therefore  turned  about,  and  directed  itself 
towards  Pignerol,  losing  many  equipages  from  our 
rear-guard  during  the  night  in  the  mountains,  al- 
though that  rear-guard  was  protected  by  Albergotti, 
and  was  not  annoyed  by  the  enemy. 

The  joy  of  the  enemy  at  their  success  was  un- 
bounded. They  could  scarcely  believe  in  it.  Their 
army  was  just  at  its  last  gasp.  They  had  not  more 
than  four  days'  supply  of  powder  left  in  the  place. 
After  the  victory,  M.  de  Savoie  and  Prince  Eugene 
lost  no  time  in  idle  rejoicings.  They  thought  only 
how  to  profit  by  a  success  so  unheard  of  and  so  unex- 
pected. They  retook  rapidly  all  the  places  in  Pied- 
mont and  Lombardy  that  we  occupied,  and  we  had 
no  power  to  prevent  them. 

Never  battle  cost  fewer  soldiers  than  that  of  Turin; 
never  was  retreat  more  undisturbed  than  ours;  yet 
never  were  results  more  frightful  or  more  rapid. 
Ramillies,   with  a  light  loss,   cost  the   Spanish   Low 


436  DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON 

Countries  and  part  of  ours :  Turin  cost  all  Italy  by  the 
ambition  of  La  Feuillade,  the  incapacity  of  Marsin, 
the  avarice,  the  trickery,  the  disobedience  of  the  gen- 
eral officers  opposed  to  M.  d'Orleans.  So  complete 
was  the  rout  of  our  army,  that  it  was  found  impossible 
to  restore  it  sufficiently  to  send  it  back  to  Italy,  not  at 
least  before  the  following  spring.  M.  d'Orleans  re- 
turned therefore  to  Versailles,  on  Monday,  the  8th  of 
November,  and  was  well  received  by  the  King.  La 
Feuillade  arrived  on  Monday,  the  13th  of  December, 
having  remained  several  days  at  Paris  without  daring 
to  go  to  Versailles.  He  was  taken  to  the  King  by 
Chamillart.  As  soon  as  the  King  saw  them  enter  he 
rose,  went  to  the  door,  and  without  giving  them  time 
to  utter  a  word,  said  to  La  Feuillade,  "  Monsieur,  we 
are  both  very  unfortunate !  "  and  instantly  turned  his 
back  upon  him.  La  Feuillade,  on  the  threshold  of 
the  door  that  he  had  not  had  time  to  cross,  left  the 
place  immediately,  without  having  dared  to  say  a  single 
word.  The  King  always  afterwards  turned  his  eyes 
from  La  Feuillade,  and  would  never  speak  to  him. 
Such  was  the  fall  of  this  Phaeton.  He  saw  that  he 
had  no  more  hope,  and  retired  from  the  army;  al- 
though there  was  no  baseness  that  he  did  not  after- 
wards employ  to  return  to  command.  I  think  there 
never  was  a  more  wrong-headed  man  or  a  man  more 
radically  dishonest,  even  to  the  marrow  of  his  bones. 
As  for  Marsin,  he  died  soon  after  his  capture,  from 
the  effect  of  his  wounds. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

SUCH  was  our  military  history  of  the  year  1706 — 
a  history  of  losses  and  dishonour.  It  may  be 
imagined  in  what  condition  was  the  exchequer 
with  so  many  demands  upon  its  treasures.  For  the 
last  two  or  three  years  the  King  had  been  obliged,  on 
account  of  the  expenses  of  the  war,  and  the  losses  we 
had  sustained,  to  cut  down  the  presents  that  he  made 
at  the  commencement  of  the  year.  Thirty-five  thou- 
sand louis  in  gold  was  the  sum  he  ordinarily  spent  in 
this  manner.  This  year,  1707,  he  diminished  it  by 
ten  thousand  louis.  It  was  upon  Madame  de  Monte- 
span  that  the  blow  fell.  Since  she  had  quitted  the 
Court  the  King  gave  her  twelve  thousand  louis  of 
gold  each  year.  This  year  he  sent  word  to  her  that 
he  could  only  give  her  eight.  Madame  de  Montespan 
testified  not  the  least  surprise.  She  replied,  that  she 
was  only  sorry  for  the  poor,  to  whom  indeed  she  gave 
with  profusion.  A  short  time  after  the  King  had 
made  this  reduction, — that  is,  on  the  8th  of  January, 
— Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  gave  birth  to  a 
son.  The  joy  was  great,  but  the  King  prohibited  all 
those  expenses  which  had  been  made  at  the  birth  of 
the  first-born  of  Madame  de  Bourgogne,  and  which 
had  amounted  to  a  large  sum.  The  want  of  money 
indeed  made  itself  felt  so  much  at  this  time,  that  the 
King  was  obliged  to  seek  for  resources  as  a  private 
person  might  have  done.  A  mining  speculator,  named 
Rodes,  having  pretended  that  he  had  discovered  many 
veins  of  gold  in  the  Pyrenees,  assistance  was  given  him 
in  order  that  he  might  bring  these  treasures  to  light. 

437 


438  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

He  declared  that  with  eighteen  hundred  workmen  he 
would  furnish  a  million  (francs'  worth  of  gold)  each 
week.  Fifty-two  millions  a-year  would  have  been  a 
fine  increase  of  revenue.  However,  after  waiting  some 
little  time,  no  gold  was  forthcoming,  and  the  money 
that  had  been  spent  to  assist  this  enterprise  was  found 
to  be  pure  loss. 

The  difficulty  of  finding  money  to  carry  on  the  af- 
fairs of  the  nation  continued  to  grow  so  irksome  that 
Chamillart,  who  had  both  the  finance  and  the  war  de- 
partments under  his  control,  was  unable  to  stand 
against  the  increased  trouble  and  vexation  which  this 
state  of  things  brought  him.  More  than  once  he  had 
represented  that  this  double  work  was  too  much  for 
him.  But  the  King  had  in  former  times  expressed  so 
much  annoyance  from  the  troubles  that  arose  between 
the  finance  and  war  departments,  that  he  would  not 
separate  them,  after  having  once  joined  them  together. 
At  last,  Chamillart  could  bear  up  against  his  heavy 
load  no  longer.  The  vapours  seized  him:  he  had  at- 
tacks of  giddiness  in  the  head ;  his  digestion  was  ob- 
structed; he  grew  thin  as  a  lath.  He  wrote  again  to 
the  King,  begging  to  be  released  from  his  duties,  and 
frankly  stated  that,  in  the  state  he  was,  if  some  relief 
was  not  afforded  him,  everything  would  go  wrong  and 
perish.  He  always  left  a  large  margin  to  his  letters, 
and  upon  this  the  King  generally  wrote  his  reply. 
Chamillart  showed  me  this  letter  when  it  came  back 
to  him,  and  I  saw  upon  it  with  great  surprise,  in  the 
handwriting  of  the  King,  this  short  note:  "Well!  let 
us  perish  together." 

The  necessity  for  money  had  now  become  so  great, 
that  all  sorts  of  means  were  adopted  to  obtain  it. 
Amongst  other  things,  a  tax  was  established  upon 
baptisms  and  marriages.  This  tax  was  extremely 
onerous  and  odious.     The  result  of  it  was  a  strange 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  439 

confusion.  Poor  people,  and  many  of  humble  means, 
baptised  their  children  themselves,  without  carrying 
them  to  the  church,  and  were  married  at  home  by 
reciprocal  consent  and  before  witnesses,  when  they 
could  find  no  priest  who  would  marry  them  without 
formality.  In  consequence  of  this  there  were  no 
longer  any  baptismal  extracts;  no  longer  any  cer- 
tainty as  to  baptisms  or  births;  and  the  children  of  the 
marriages  solemnised  in  the  way  I  have  stated  above 
were  illegitimate  in  the  eyes  of  the  law.  Researches 
and  rigours  in  respect  to  abuses  so  prejudicial  were 
redoubled  therefore  ;  that  is  to  say,  they  were  redoubled 
for  the  purpose  of  collecting  the  tax. 

From  public  cries  and  murmurs  the  people  in  some 
places  passed  to  sedition.  Matters  went  so  far  at 
Cahors,  that  two  battalions  which  were  there  had  great 
difficulty  in  holding  the  town  against  the  armed  peas- 
ants ;  and  troops  intended  for  Spain  were  obliged  to  be 
sent  there.  It  was  found  necessary  to  suspend  the 
operation  of  the  tax,  but  it  was  with  great  trouble  that 
the  movement  of  Quercy  was  put  down,  and  the 
peasants,  who  had  armed  and  collected  together,  in- 
duced to  retire  into  their  villages.  In  Perigord  they 
rose,  pillaged  the  bureaux,  and  rendered  themselves 
masters  of  a  little  town  and  some  castles,  and  forced 
some  gentlemen  to  put  themselves  at  their  head.  They 
declared  publicly  that  they  would  pay  the  old  taxes  to 
King,  curate,  and  lord,  but  that  they  would  pay  no 
more,  or  hear  a  word  of  any  other  taxes  or  vexation. 
In  the  end  it  was  found  necessary  to  drop  this  tax 
upon  baptism  and  marriages,  to  the  great  regret  of 
the  tax-gatherers,  who,  by  all  manner  of  vexations  and 
rogueries,  had  enriched  themselves  cruelly. 

It  was  at  this  time,  and  in  consequence,  to  some 
extent,  of  these  events,  that  a  man  who  had  acquired 
the  highest  distinction  in  France  was  brought  to  the 


440  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

tomb  in  bitterness  and  grief,  for  that  which  in  any 
other  country  would  have  covered  him  with  honour. 
Vauban,  for  it  is  to  him  that  I  allude,  patriot  as  he  was, 
had  all  his  life  been  touched  with  the  misery  of  the 
people  and  the  vexations  they  suffered.  The  knowl- 
edge that  his  offices  gave  him  of  the  necessity  for 
expense,  the  little  hope  he  had  that  the  King  would 
retrench  in  matters  of  splendour  and  amusement,  made 
him  groan  to  see  no  remedy  to  an  oppression  which 
increased  in  weight  from  day  to  day.  Feeling  this,  he 
made  no  journey  that  he  did  not  collect  information 
upon  the  value  and  produce  of  the  land,  upon  the  trade 
and  industry  of  the  towns  and  provinces,  on  the  nature 
of  the  imposts,  and  the  manner  of  collecting  them. 
Not  content  with  this,  he  secretly  sent  to  such  places 
as  he  could  not  visit  himself,  or  even  to  those  he  had 
visited,  to  instruct  him  in  everything,  and  compare 
the  reports  he  received  with  those  he  had  himself  made. 
The  last  twenty  years  of  his  life  were  spent  in  these 
researches,  and  at  considerable  cost  to  himself.  In 
the  end,  he  convinced  himself  that  the  land  was  the 
only  real  wealth,  and  he  set  himself  to  work  to  form 
a  new  system. 

He  had  already  made  much  progress,  when  several 
little  books  appeared  by  Boisguilbert,  lieutenant-gen- 
eral at  Rouen,  who  long  since  had  had  the  same  views 
as  Vauban,  and  had  wanted  to  make  them  known. 
From  this  labour  had  resulted  a  learned  and  profound 
book,  in  which  a  system  was  explained  by  which  the 
people  could  be  relieved  of  all  the  expenses  they  sup- 
ported, and  from  every  tax,  and  by  which  the  revenue 
collected  would  go  at  once  into  the  treasury  of  the 
King,  instead  of  enriching,  first  the  traitants,  the  in- 
tendants,  and  the  finance  ministers.  These  latter, 
therefore,  were  opposed  to  the  system,  and  their  oppo- 
sition, as  will  be  seen,  was  of  no  slight  consequence. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  441 

Vauban  read  this  book  with  much  attention.  He 
differed  on  some  points  with  the  author,  but  agreed 
with  him  in  the  main.  Boisguilbert  wished  to  pre- 
serve some  imposts  upon  foreign  commerce  and  upon 
provisions.  Vauban  wished  to  abolish  all  imposts,  and 
to  substitute  for  them  two  taxes,  one  upon  the  land, 
the  other  upon  trade  and  industry.  His  book,  in  which 
he  put  forth  these  ideas,  was  full  of  information  and 
figures,  all  arranged  with  the  utmost  clearness,  sim- 
plicity, and  exactitude. 

But  it  had  a  grand  fault.  It  described  a  course 
which,  if  followed,  would  have  ruined  an  army  of 
financiers,  of  clerks,  of  functionaries  of  all  kinds;  it 
would  have  forced  them  to  live  at  their  own  expense, 
instead  of  at  the  expense  of  the  people;  and  it  would 
have  sapped  the  foundations  of  those  immense  fortunes 
that  are  seen  to  grow  up  in  such  a  short  time.  This 
was  enough  to  cause  its  failure. 

All  the  people  interested  in  opposing  the  work  set 
up  a  cry.  They  saw  place,  power,  everything,  about  to 
fly  from  their  grasp,  if  the  counsels  of  Vauban  were 
acted  upon.  What  wonder,  then,  that  the  King,  who 
was  surrounded  by  these  people,  listened  to  their  rea- 
sons, and  received  with  a  very  ill  grace  Marechal  Vau- 
ban when  he  presented  his  book  to  him.  The  minis- 
ters, it  may  well  be  believed,  did  not  give  him  a  better 
welcome.  From  that  moment  his  services,  his  military 
capacity  (unique  of  its  kind),  his  virtues,  the  affec- 
tion the  King  had  had  for  him,  all  were  forgotten. 
The  King  saw  only  in  Marechal  Vauban  a  man  led 
astray  by  love  for  the  people,  a  criminal  who  attacked 
the  authority  of  the  ministers,  and  consequently  that 
of  the  King.  He  explained  himself  to  this  effect 
without  scruple. 

The  unhappy  Marechal  could  not  survive  the  loss  of 
his  royal  master's  favour,  or  stand  up  against  the  en- 


442  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

mity  the  King's  explanations  had  created  against  him ; 
he  died  a  few  months  after  consumed  with  grief,  and 
with  an  affliction  nothing  could  soften,  and  to  which 
the  King  was  insensible  to  such  a  point,  that  he  made 
semblance  of  not  perceiving  that  he  had  lost  a  servitor 
so  useful  and  so  illustrious.  Vauban,  justly  celebrated 
over  all  Europe,  was  regretted  in  France  by  all  who 
were  not  financiers  or  their  supporters. 

Boisguilbert,  whom  this  event  ought  to  have  ren- 
dered wise,  could  not  contain  himself.  One  of  the  ob- 
jections which  had  been  urged  against  his  theories,  was 
the  difficulty  of  carrying  out  changes  in  the  midst  of  a 
great  war.  He  now  published  a  book  refuting  this 
point,  and  describing  such  a  number  of  abuses  then  ex- 
isting, to  abolish  which,  he  asked,  was  it  necessary  to 
wait  for  peace,  that  the  ministers  were  outraged. 
Boisguilbert  was  exiled  to  Auvergne.  I  did  all  in  my 
power  to  revoke  this  sentence,  having  known  Bois- 
guilbert at  Rouen,  but  did  not  succeed  until  the  end 
of  two  months.  He  was  then  allowed  to  return  to 
Rouen,  but  was  severely  reprimanded,  and  stripped 
of  his  functions  for  some  little  time.  He  was  amply 
indemnified,  however,  for  this  by  the  crowd  of 
people,  and  the  acclamations  with  which  he  was 
received. 

It  is  due  to  Chamillart  to  say,  that  he  was  the  only 
minister  who  had  listened  with  any  attention  to  these 
new  systems  of  Vauban  and  Boisguilbert.  He  indeed 
made  trial  of  the  plans  suggested  by  the  former,  but 
the  circumstances  were  not  favourable  to  his  success, 
and  they  of  course  failed.  Some  time  after,  instead  of 
following  the  system  of  Vauban,  and  reducing  the  im- 
posts, fresh  ones  were  added.  Who  would  have  said 
to  the  Marechal  that  all  his  labours  for  the  relief  of  the 
people  of  France  would  lead  to  new  imposts,  more 
harsh,  more  permanent,  and  more  heavy  than  he  pro- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  443 

tested  against?  It  is  a  terrible  lesson  against  all  im- 
provements in  matters  of  taxation  and  finance. 

But  it  is  time,  now,  that  I  should  retrace  my  steps 
to  other  matters,  which,  if  related  in  due  order  of  time, 
should  have  found  a  place  ere  this.  And  first,  let  me 
relate  the  particulars  concerning  a  trial  in  which  I  was 
engaged,  and  which  I  have  deferred  allusion  to  until 
now,  so  as  not  to  entangle  the  thread  of  my  narrative. 

My  sister,  as  I  have  said  in  its  proper  place,  had  mar- 
ried the  Due  de  Brissac,  and  the  marriage  had  not  been 
a  happy  one.  After  a  time,  in  fact,  they  separated. 
My  sister  at  her  death  left  me  her  universal  legatee; 
and  shortly  after  this,  M.  de  Brissac  brought  an  action 
against  me  on  her  account  for  five  hundred  thousand 
francs.  After  his  death,  his  representatives  continued 
the  action,  which  I  resisted,  not  only  maintaining  that 
I  owed  none  of  the  five  hundred  thousand  francs,  but 
claiming  to  have  two  hundred  thousand  owing  to  me, 
out  of  six  hundred  thousand  which  had  formed  the 
dowry  of  my  sister. 

When  M.  de  Brissac  died,  there  seemed  some  prob- 
ability that  his  peerage  would  become  extinct;  for  the 
Comte  de  Cosse,  who  claimed  to  succeed  him,  was  op- 
posed by  a  number  of  peers,  and  but  for  me  might  have 
failed  to  establish  his  pretensions.  I,  however,  as  his 
claim  was  just,  interested  myself  in  him,  supported  him 
with  all  my  influence,  and  gained  for  him  the  support 
of  several  influential  peers :  so  that  in  the  end  he  was 
recognised  as  Due  de  Brissac,  and  received  as  such  at 
the  parliament  on  the  6th  of  May,  1700. 

Having  succeeded  thus  to  the  titles  and  estates  of  his 
predecessor,  he  succeeded  also  to  his  liabilities,  debts, 
and  engagements.  Among  these  was  the  trial  against 
me  for  five  hundred  thousand  francs.  Cosse  felt  so 
thoroughly  that  he  owed  his  rank  to  me,  that  he  offered 
to  give  me  five  hundred  thousand  francs,  so  as  to  in- 


444  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

demnify  me  against  an  adverse  decision  in  the  cause. 
Now,  as  I  have  said,  I  not  only  resisted  this  demand 
made  upon  me  for  five  hundred  thousand  francs,  but 
I,  in  my  turn,  claimed  two  hundred  thousand  francs, 
and  my  claim,  once  admitted,  all  the  personal  creditors 
of  the  late  Due  de  Brissac  (creditors  who,  of  course, 
had  to  be  paid  by  the  new  Duke)  would  have  been 
forced  to  stand  aside  until  my  debt  was  settled. 

I,  therefore,  refused  this  offer  of  Cosse,  lest  other 
creditors  should  hear  of  the  arrangement,  and  force 
him  to  make  a  similar  one  with  them.  He  was  over- 
whelmed with  a  generosity  so  little  expected,  and  we 
became  more  intimately  connected  from  that  day. 

Cosse,  once  received  as  Due  de  Brissac,  I  no  longer 
feared  to  push  forward  the  action  I  had  commenced 
for  the  recovery  of  the  two  hundred  thousand  francs 
due  to  me,  and  which  I  had  interrupted  only  on  his 
account.  I  had  gained  it  twice  running  against  the 
late  Due  de  Brissac,  at  the  parliament  of  Rouen ;  but 
the  Duchesse  d'Aumont,  who  in  the  last  years  of  his 
life  had  lent  him  money,  and  whose  debt  was  in 
danger,  succeeded  in  getting  this  cause  sent  up  for 
appeal  to  the  parliament  at  Paris,  where  she  threw  ob- 
stacle upon  obstacle  in  its  path,  and  caused  judgment 
to  be  delayed  month  after  month.  When  I  came  to 
take  active  steps  in  the  matter,  my  surprise — to  use 
no  stronger  word — was  great,  to  find  Cosse,  after  all  I 
had  done  for  him,  favouring  the  pretensions  of  the 
Duchesse  d'Aumont,  and  lending  her  his  aid  to  estab- 
lish them.  However,  he  and  the  Duchesse  d'Aumont 
lost  their  cause,  for  when  it  was  submitted  to  the 
judges  of  the  council  at  Paris,  it  was  sent  back  to 
Rouen,  and  they  had  to  pay  damages  and  expenses. 

For  years  the  affair  had  been  ready  to  be  judged  at 
Rouen,  but  M.  d'Aumont  every  year,  by  means  of  his 
letters  of  state,  obtained  a  postponement.     At  last, 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  445 

however,  M.  d'Aumont  died,  and  I  was  assured  that 
the  letters  of  state  should  not  be  again  produced,  and 
that  in  consequence  no  further  adjournment  should 
take  place.  I  and  Madame  de  Saint-Simon  at  once 
set  out,  therefore,  for  Rouen,  where  we  were  exceed- 
ingly well  received,  fetes  and  entertainments  being 
continually  given  in  our  honour. 

After  we  had  been  there  but  eight  or  ten  days,  I  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  Pontchartrain,  who  sent  me  word 
that  the  King  had  learnt  with  surprise  I  was  at  Rouen, 
and  had  charged  him  to  ask  me  why  I  was  there :  so 
attentive  was  the  King  as  to  what  became  of  the  peo- 
ple of  mark,  he  was  accustomed  to  see  around  him! 
My  reply  was  not  difficult. 

Meanwhile  our  cause  proceeded.  The  parliament, 
that  is  to  say,  the  Grand  Chamber,  suspended  all  other 
business  in  order  to  finish  ours.  The  affair  was  al- 
ready far  advanced,  when  it  was  interrupted  by  an 
obstacle,  of  all  obstacles  the  least  possible  to  foresee. 
The  letters  of  state  had  again  been  put  in,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  obtaining  another  adjournment. 

My  design  is  not  to  weary  by  recitals,  which  interest 
only  myself;  but  I  must  explain  this  matter  fully.  It 
was  Monday  evening.  The  parliament  of  Rouen 
ended  on  the  following  Saturday.  If  we  waited  until 
the  opening  of  the  next  parliament,  we  should  have 
to  begin  our  cause  from  the  beginning,  and  with  new 
presidents  and  judges,  who  would  know  nothing  of 
the  facts.  What  was  to  be  done?  To  appeal  to  the 
King  seemed  impossible,  for  he  Was  at  Marly,  and, 
while  there,  never  listened  to  such  matters.  By  the 
time  he  left  Marly,  it  would  be  too  late  to  apply  to 
him. 

Madame  de  Saint-Simon  and  others  advised  me, 
however,  at  all  hazards,  to  go  straight  to  the  King,  in- 
stead of  sending  a  courier,  as  I  thought  of  doing,  and 


446  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

to  keep  my  journey  secret.  I  followed  their  advice, 
and  setting  out  at  once,  arrived  at  Marly  on  Tuesday 
morning,  the  8th  of  August,  at  eight  of  the  clock. 
The  Chancellor  and  Chamillart,  to  whom  I  told  my  er- 
rand, pitied  me,  but  gave  me  no  hope  of  success. 
Nevertheless,  a  council  of  state  was  to  be  held  on  the 
following  morning,  presided  over  by  the  King,  and 
my  petition  was  laid  before  it.  The  letters  of  state 
were  thrown  out  by  every  voice.  This  information 
was  brought  to  me  at  mid-day.  I  partook  of  a  hasty 
dinner,  and  turned  back  to  Rouen,  where  I  arrived 
on  Thursday,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  three 
hours  after  a  courier,  by  whom  I  had  sent  this  un- 
hoped-for news. 

T  brought  with  me,  besides  the  order  respecting  the 
letters*  of  state,  an  order  to  the  parliament  to  proceed  to 
judgment  at  once.  It  was  laid  before  the  judges  very 
early  on  Saturday,  the  nth  of  August,  the  last  day  of 
the  parliament.  From  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  we 
had  an  infinite  number  of  visitors,  wanting  to  accom- 
pany us  to  the  palace.  The  parliament  had  been  much 
irritated  against  these  letters  of  state,  after  having  sus- 
pended all  other  business  for  us.  The  withdrawal  of 
these  letters  was  now  announced.  We  gained  our 
cause,  with  penalties  and  expenses,  amid  acclamations 
which  resounded  through  the  court,  and  which  fol- 
lowed us  into  the  streets.  We  could  scarcely  enter  our 
street,  so  full  was  it  with  the  crowd,  or  our  house, 
which  was  equally  crowded.  Our  kitchen  chimney 
soon  after  took  fire,  and  it  was  only  a  marvel  that  it 
was  extinguished,  without  damage,  after  having 
strongly  warned  us,  and  turned  our  joy  into  bitterness. 
There  was  only  the  master  of  the  house  who  was  un- 
moved. We  dined,  however,  with  a  grand  company; 
and  after  stopping  one  or  two  days  more  to  thank  our 
friends,  we  went  to  see  the  sea  at  Dieppe,  and  then 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  447 

to  Cani,  to  a  beautiful  house  belonging  to  our  host 
at  Rouen. 

As  for  Madame  d'Aumont,  she  was  furious  at  the 
ill-success  of  her  affair.  It  was  she  who  had  obtained 
the  letters  of  state  from  the  steward  of  her  son-in-law. 
Her  son-in-law  had  promised  me  that  they  should  not 
be  used,  and  wrote  at  once  to  say  he  had  had  no  hand 
in  their  production.  M.  de  Brissac,  who  had  been 
afraid  to  look  me  in  the  face  ever  since  he  had  taken 
part  in  this  matter,  and  with  whom  I  had  openly 
broken,  was  now  so  much  ashamed  that  he  avoided  me 
everywhere. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

IT  was  just  at  the  commencement  of  the  year  1706, 
that  I  received  a  piece  of  news  which  almost  took 
away  my  breath  by  its  suddenness,  and  by  the  sur- 
prise it  caused  me.  I  was  on  very  intimate  terms  with 
Gualterio,  the  nuncio  of  the  Pope.  Just  about  this 
time  we  were  without  an  ambassador  at  Rome.  The 
nuncio  spoke  to  me  about  this  post;  but  at  my  age — 
I  was  but  thirty — and  knowing  the  unwillingness  of 
the  King  to  employ  young  men  in  public  affairs,  I  paid 
no  attention  to  his  words.  Eight  days  afterwards  he 
entered  my  chamber — one  Tuesday,  about  an  hour 
after  mid-day — his  arms  open,  joy  painted  upon  his 
face,  and  embracing  me,  told  me  to  shut  my  door,  and 
even  that  of  my  antechamber,  so  that  he  should  not 
be  seen.  I  was  to  go  to  Rome  as  ambassador.  I  made 
him  repeat  this  twice  over:  it  seemed  so  impossible.  If 
one  of  the  portraits  in  my  chamber  had  spoken  to  me,  I 
could  not  have  been  more  surprised.  Gualterio 
begged  me  to  keep  the  matter  secret,  saying,  that  the 
appointment  would  be  officially  announced  to  me  ere 
long. 

I  went  immediately  and  sought  out  Chamillart,  re- 
proaching him  for  not  having  apprised  me  of  this  good 
news.  He  smiled  at  my  anger,  and  said  that  the  King 
had  ordered  the  news  to  be  kept  secret.  I  admit  that 
I  was  flattered  at  being  chosen  at  my  age  for  an  em- 
bassy so  important.  I  was  advised  on  every  side  to 
accept  it,  and  this  I  determined  to  do.  I  could  not 
understand,  however,  how  it  was  I  had  been  selected. 
Torcy,  years  afterwards,  when  the  King  was  dead,  re- 

448 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  449 

lated  to  me  how  it  came  about.  At  this  time  I  had  no 
relations  with  Torcy ;  it  was  not  until  long  afterwards 
that  friendship  grew  up  between  us. 

He  said,  then,  that  the  embassy  being  vacant,  the 
King  wished  to  fill  up  that  appointment,  and  wished 
also  that  a  Duke  should  be  ambassador.  He  took  an 
almanack  and  began  reading  the  names  of  the  Dukes, 
commencing  with  M.  de  Uzes.  He  made  no  stop  un- 
til he  came  to  my  name.  Then  he  said  (to  Torcy), 
"  What  do  you  think  of  him?  He  is  young,  but  he  is 
good,"  &c.  The  King,  after  hearing  a  few  opinions 
expressed  by  those  around  him,  shut  up  the  almanack, 
and  said  it  was  not  worth  while  to  go  farther,  deter- 
mined that  I  should  be  ambassador,  but  ordered  the 
appointment  to  be  kept  secret.  I  learnt  this,  more  than 
ten  years  after  its  occurrence,  from  a  true  man,  who 
had  no  longer  any  interest  or  reason  to  disguise  any- 
thing from  me. 

Advised  on  all  sides  by  my  friends  to  accept  the  post 
offered  to  me,  I  did  not  long  hesitate  to  do  so.  Ma- 
dame de  Saint-Simon  gave  me  the  same  advice,  al- 
though she  herself  was  pained  at  the  idea  of  quitting 
her  family.  I  cannot  refuse  myself  the  pleasure  of  re- 
lating here  what  the  three  ministers  each  said  of  my 
wife,  a  woman  then  of  only  twenty-seven  years  of 
age.  All  three,  unknown  to  each  other,  and  without 
solicitation  on  my  part,  counselled  me  to  keep  none 
of  the  affairs  of  my  embassy  secret  from  her,  but 
to  give  her  a  place  at  the  end  of  the  table  when  I 
read  or  wrote  my  despatches,  and  to  consult  her  with 
deference  upon  everything.  I  have  rarely  so  much 
relished  advice  as  I  did  in  this  case.  Although,  as 
things  fell  out,  I  could  not  follow  it  at  Rome,  I  had 
followed  it  long  before,  and  continued  to  do  so  all  my 
life.  I  kept  nothing  secret  from  her,  and  I  had  good 
reason  to  be  pleased  that  I  did  not.     Her  counsel  was 


45Q  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

always  wise,  judicious,  and  useful,  and  oftentimes  she 
warded  off  from  me  many  inconveniences. 

But  to  continue  the  narrative  of  this  embassy.  It 
was  soon  so  generally  known  that  I  was  going  to 
Rome,  that  as  we  danced  at  Marly,  we  heard  people 
say,  "  Look !  M.  l'Ambassadeur  and  Madame  I'Am- 
bassadrice  are  dancing."  After  this  I  wished  the  an- 
nouncement to  be  made  public  as  soon  as  possible,  but 
the  King  was  not  to  be  hurried.  Day  after  day  passed 
by,  and  still  I  was  kept  in  suspense.  At  last,  about  the 
middle  of  April,  I  had  an  interview  with  Chamillart 
one  day,  just  after  he  came  out  of  the  council  at  which 
I  knew  my  fate  had  been  decided.  I  learnt  then  that 
the  King  had  determined  to  send  no  ambassador  to 
Rome.  The  Abbe  de  La  Tremoille  was  already  there ; 
he  had  been  made  Cardinal,  and  was  to  remain  and  at- 
tend to  the  affairs  of  the  embassy.  I  found  out  after- 
wards that  I  had  reason  to  attribute  to  Madame  de 
Maintenon  and  M.  du  Maine  the  change  in  the  King's 
intention  towards  me.  Madame  de  Saint-Simon  was 
delighted.  It  seemed  as  though  she  foresaw  the 
strange  discredit  in  which  the  affairs  of  the  King  were 
going  to  fall  in  Italy,  the  embarrassment  and  the  dis- 
order that  public  misfortunes  would  cause  the  finances, 
and  the  cruel  situation  to  which  all  things  would  have 
reduced  us  at  Rome.  As  for  me,  I  had  had  so  much 
leisure  to  console  myself  beforehand,  that  I  had  need 
of  no  more.  I  felt,  however,  that  I  had  now  lost  all 
favour  with  the  King,  and,  indeed,  he  estranged 
himself  from  me  more  and  more  each  day.  By 
what  means  I  recovered  myself  it  is  not  yet  time  to 
tell. 

On  the  night  between  the  3rd  and  4th  of  February, 
Cardinal  Coislin,  Bishop  of  Orleans,  died.  He  was  a 
little  man,  very  fat,  who  looked  like  a  village  curate. 
His  purity  of  manners  and  his  virtues  caused  him  to  be 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  451 

much  loved.  Two  good  actions  of  his  life  deserve  to 
be  remembered. 

When,  after  the  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantes, 
the  King  determined  to  convert  the  Huguenots  by 
means  of  dragoons  and  torture,  a  regiment  was  sent  to 
Orleans,  to  be  spread  abroad  in  the  diocese.  As  soon 
as  it  arrived,  M.  d'Orleans  sent  word  to  the  officers 
that  they  might  make  his  house  their  home;  that  their 
horses  should  be  lodged  in  his  stables.  He  begged 
them  not  to  allow  a  single  one  of  their  men  to  leave  the 
town,  to  make  the  slightest  disorder;  to  say  no  word 
to  the  Huguenots,  and  not  to  lodge  in  their  houses. 
He  resolved  to  be  obeyed,  and  he  was.  The  regiment 
stayed  a  month,  and  cost  him  a  good  deal.  At  the 
end  of  that  time  he  so  managed  matters  that  the  sol- 
diers were  sent  away,  and  none  came  again.  This  con- 
duct, so  full  of  charity,  so  opposed  to  that  of  nearly 
all  the  other  dioceses,  gained  as  many  Huguenots  as 
were  gained  by  the  barbarities  they  suffered  elsewhere. 
It  needed  some  courage,  to  say  nothing  of  generosity, 
to  act  thus,  and  to  silently  blame,  as  it  were,  the  con- 
duct of  the  King. 

The  other  action  of  M.  d'Orleans  was  less  public  and 
less  dangerous,  but  was  not  less  good.  He  secretly 
gave  away  many  alms  to  the  poor,  in  addition  to  those 
he  gave  publicly.  Among  those  whom  he  succoured 
was  a  poor,  broken-down  gentleman,  without  wife  or 
child,  to  whom  he  gave  four  hundred  livres  of  pension, 
and  a  place  at  his  table  whenever  he  was  at  Orleans. 
One  morning  the  servants  of  M.  d'Orleans  told  their 
master  that  ten  pieces  of  plate  were  missing,  and  that 
suspicion  fell  upon  the  gentleman.  M.  d'Orleans  could 
not  believe  him  guilty,  but  as  he  did  not  make  his  ap- 
pearance at  the  house  for  several  days,  was  forced  at 
last  to  imagine  he  was  so.  Upon  this  he  sent  for  the 
gentleman,  who  admitted  himself  to  be  the  offender. 

Vol.  11  Memoirs — O 


452  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

M.  d'Orleans  said  he  must  have  been  strangely  pressed 
to  commit  an  action  of  this  nature,  and  reproached  him 
for  not  having  mentioned  his  wants.  Then,  drawing 
twenty  louis  from  his  pocket,  he  gave  them  to  the  gen- 
tleman, told  him  to  forget  what  had  occurred,  and  to 
use  his  table  as  before.  M.  d'Orleans  prohibited  his 
servants  to  mention  their  suspicions,  and  this  anecdote 
would  never  have  been  known,  had  it  not  been  told  by 
the  gentleman  himself,  penetrated  with  confusion  and 
gratitude. 

M.  d'Orleans,  after  he  became  cardinal,  was  often 
pressed  by  his  friends  to  give  up  his  bishopric.  But 
this  he  would  not  listen  to.  The  King  had  for  him  a 
respect  that  was  almost  devotion.  When  Madame  de 
Bourgogne  was  about  to  be  delivered  of  her  first  child, 
the  King  sent  a  courier  to  M.  d'Orleans  requesting  him 
to  come  to  Court  immediately,  and  to  remain  there  un- 
til after  the  delivery.  When  the  child  was  born,  the 
King  would  not  allow  it  to  be  sprinkled  by  any  other 
hand  than  that  of  M.  d'Orleans.  The  poor  man,  very 
fat,  as  I  have  said,  always  sweated  very  much ;  on  this 
occasion,  wrapped  up  in  his  cloak  and  his  lawn,  his 
body  ran  with  sweat  in  such  abundance,  that  in  the 
antechamber  the  floor  was  wet  all  round  where  he 
stood.  All  the  Court  was  much  afflicted  at  his  death; 
the  King  more  than  anybody  spoke  his  praises.  It  was 
known  after  his  death,  from  his  valet  de  chambre,  that 
he  mortified  himself  continually  with  instruments  of 
penitence,  and  that  he  rose  every  night  and  passed  an 
hour  on  his  knees  in  prayer.  He  received  the  sacra- 
ments with  great  piety,  and  died  the  night  following 
as  he  had  lived. 

Heudicourt  the  younger,  a  species  of  very  mis- 
chievous satyr,  and  much  mixed  up  in  grand  intrigues 
of  gallantry,  made,  about  this  time,  a  song  upon  the 
grand  prevot  and  his  family.     It  was  so  simple,  so 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  453 

true  to  nature,  withal  so  pleasant,  that  some  one  hav- 
ing whispered  it  in  the  ear  of  the  Marechal  de  Boufflers 
at  chapel,  he  could  not  refrain  from  bursting  into 
laughter,  although  he  was  in  attendance  at  the  mass  of 
the  King.  The  Marechal  was  the  gravest  and  most 
serious  man  in  all  France;  the  greatest  slave  to  deco- 
rum. The  King  turned  round  therefore  in  surprise, 
which  augmented  considerably  when  he  saw  the  Mare- 
chal de  Boufflers  nigh  to  bursting  with  laughter, 
and  the  tears  running  down  his  cheeks.  On  turning 
into  his  cabinet,  he  called  the  Marechal,  and  asked 
what  had  put  him  in  that  state  at  the  mass.  The 
Marechal  repeated  the  song  to  him.  Thereupon  the 
King  burst  out  louder  than  the  Marechal  had,  and  for 
a  whole  fortnight  afterwards  could  not  help  smiling 
whenever  he  saw  the  grand  prevot  or  any  of  his  fam- 
ily. The  song  soon  spread  about,  and  much  diverted 
the  Court  and  the  town. 

I  should  particularly  avoid  soiling  this  page  with  an 
account  of  the  operation  for  fistula  which  Courcillon, 
only  son  of  Dangeau,  had  performed  upon  him,  but  for 
the  extreme  ridicule  with  which  it  was  accompanied. 
Courcillon  was  a  dashing  young  fellow,  much  given  to 
witty  sayings,  to  mischief,  to  impiety,  and  to  the  filthi- 
est debauchery,  of  which  latter,  indeed,  this  operation 
passed  publicly  as  the  fruit.  His  mother,  Madame 
Dangeau,  was  in  the  strictest  intimacy  with  Madame 
de  Maintenon.  They  two  alone,  of  all  the  Court,  were 
ignorant  of  the  life  Courcillon  led.  Madame  was 
much  afflicted;  and  quitted  his  bed-side,  even  for  a 
moment,  with  pain.  Madame  de  Maintenon  entered 
into  her  sorrow,  and  went  every  day  to  bear  her  com- 
pany at  the  pillow  of  Courcillon.  Madame  d'Heudi- 
court,  another  intimate  friend  of  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon, was  admitted  there  also,  but  scarcely  anybody 
else.     Courcillon  listened  to  them,  spoke  devotionally 


454  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

to  them,  and  uttered  the  reflections  suggested  by  his 
state.  They,  all  admiration,  published  everywhere 
that  he  was  a  saint.  Madame  d'Heudicourt  and  a  few 
others  who  listened  to  these  discourses,  and  who  knew 
the  pilgrim  well,  and  saw  him  loll  out  his  tongue  at 
them  on  the  sly,  knew  not  what  to  do  to  prevent  their 
laughter,  and  as  soon  as  they  could  get  away  went 
and  related  all  they  had  heard  to  their  friends.  Cour- 
cillon,  who  thought  it  a  mighty  honour  to  have  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon  every  day  for  nurse,  but  who, 
nevertheless,  was  dying  of  weariness,  used  to  see  his 
friends  in  the  evening  (when  Madame  de  Maintenon 
and  his  mother  were  gone),  and  would  relate  to  them, 
with  burlesque  exaggeration,  all  the  miseries  he  had 
suffered  during  the  day,  and  ridicule  the  devotional 
discourses  he  had  listened  to.  All  the  time  his  illness 
lasted,  Madame  de  Maintenon  came  every  day  to  see 
him,  so  that  her  credulity,  which  no  one  dared  to  en- 
lighten, was  the  laughing-stock  of  the  Court.  She 
conceived  such  a  high  opinion  of  the  virtue  of  Cour- 
cillon,  that  she  cited  him  always  as  an  example,  and 
the  King  also  formed  the  same  opinion.  Courcillon 
took  good  care  not  to  try  and  cultivate  it  when  he  be- 
came cured;  yet  neither  the  King  nor  Madame  de 
Maintenon  opened  their  eyes,  or  changed  their  con- 
duct towards  him.  Madame  de  Maintenon,  it  must  be 
said,  except  in  the  sublime  intrigue  of  her  government 
and  with  the  King,  was  always  the  queen  of  dupes. 

It  would  seem  that  there  are,  at  certain  times,  fash- 
ions in  crimes  as  in  clothes.  At  the  period  of  the 
Voysins  and  the  Brinvilliers,  there  were  nothing  but 
poisoners  abroad;  and  against  these,  a  court  was  ex- 
pressly instituted,  called  ardente,  because  it  condemned 
them  to  the  flames.  At  the  time  of  which  I  am  now 
speaking,  1703,  for  I  forgot  to  relate  what  follows  in 
its  proper  place,  forgers  of  writings  were  in  the  ascen- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  455 

dant,  and  became  so  common,  that  a  chamber  was 
established  composed  of  councillors  of  state  and  others, 
solely  to  judge  the  accusations  which  this  sort  of  crim- 
inals gave  rise  to. 

The  Bouillons  wished  to  be  recognised  as  descended, 
by  male  issue,  of  the  Counts  of  Auvergne,  and  to  claim 
all  kinds  of  distinctions  and  honours  in  consequence. 
They  had,  however,  no  proofs  of  this,  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, their  genealogy  proved  it  to  be  false.  All  on  a 
sudden,  an  old  document  that  had  been  interred  in  the 
obscurity  of  ages  in  the  church  of  Brioude,  was  pre- 
sented to  Cardinal  Bouillon.  It  had  all  the  marks  of 
antiquity,  and  contained  a  triumphant  proof  of  the 
descent  of  the  house  of  La  Tour,  to  which  the  Bouil- 
lons belonged,  from  the  ancient  Counts  of  Auvergne. 
The  Cardinal  was  delighted  to  have  in  his  hands  this 
precious  document.  But  to  avoid  all  suspicion,  he  af- 
fected modesty,  and  hesitated  to  give  faith  to  evidence 
so  decisive.  He  spoke  in  confidence  to  all  the  learned 
men  he  knew,  and  begged  them  to  examine  the  docu- 
ment with  care,  so  that  he  might  not  be  the  dupe  of  a 
too  easy  belief  in  it. 

Whether  the  examiners  were  deceived  by  the  docu- 
ment, or  whether  they  allowed  themselves  to  be 
seduced  into  believing  it,  as  is  more  than  probable, 
from  fear  of  giving  offence  to  the  Cardinal,  need  not 
be  discussed.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  they  pro- 
nounced in  favour  of  the  deed,  and  that  Father  Ma- 
billon,  that  Benedictine  so  well  known  throughout  all 
Europe  by  his  sense  and  his  candour,  was  led  by  the 
others  to  share  their  opinion. 

After  this,  Cardinal  de  Bouillon  no  longer  affected 
any  doubt  about  the  authenticity  of  the  discovery.  All 
his  friends  complimented  him  upon  it,  the  majority  to 
see  how  he  would  receive  their  congratulations.  It 
was  a  chaos  rather  than  a  mixture,  of  vanity  the  most 


456  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

outrageous,  modesty  the  most  affected,  and  joy  the 
most  immoderate  which  he  could  not  restrain. 

Unfortunately,  De  Bar,  who  had  found  the  precious 
document,  and  who  had  presented  it  to  Cardinal  de 
Bouillon,  was  arrested  and  put  in  prison  a  short  time 
after  this,  charged  with  many  forgeries.  This  event 
made  some  stir,  and  caused  suspicion  to  fall  upon 
the  document,  which  was  now  attentively  examined 
through  many  new  spectacles.  Learned  men  unac- 
quainted with  the  Bouillons  contested  it,  and  De  Bar 
was  so  pushed  upon  this  point,  that  he  made  many 
delicate  admissions.  Alarm  at  once  spread  among  the 
Bouillons.  They  did  all  in  their  power  to  ward  off 
the  blow  that  was  about  to  fall.  Seeing  the  tribunal 
firm,  and  fully  resolved  to  follow  the  affair  to  the  end, 
they  openly  solicited  for  De  Bar,  and  employed  all 
their  credit  to  gain  his  liberation.  At  last,  finding  the 
tribunal  inflexible,  they  were  reduced  to  take  an  ex- 
treme resolution.  M.  de  Bouillon  admitted  to  the 
King,  that  his  brother,  Cardinal  de  Bouillon,  might, 
unknown  to  all  of  them,  have  brought  forward  facts 
he  could  not  prove.  He  added,  that  putting  himself 
in  the  King's  hands,  he  begged  that  the  affair  might 
be  stopped  at  once,  out  of  consideration  for  those 
whose  only  guilt  was  too  great  credulity,  and  too  much 
confidence  in  a  brother  who  had  deceived  them.  The 
King,  with  more  of  friendship  for  M.  de  Bouillon  than 
of  reflection  as  to  what  he  owed  by  way  of  reparation 
for  a  public  offence,  agreed  to  this  course. 

De  Bar,  convicted  of  having  fabricated  this  docu- 
ment, by  his  own  admission  before  the  public  tribunal, 
was  not  condemned  to  death,  but  to  perpetual  im- 
prisonment. As  may  be  believed,  this  adventure  made 
a  great  stir;  but  what  cannot  be  believed  so  easily  is, 
the  conduct  of  the  Messieurs  Bouillon  about  fifteen 
months  afterwards. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  457 

At  the  time  when  the  false  document  above  referred 
to  was  discovered,  Cardinal  de  Bouillon  had  commis- 
sioned Baluze,  a  man  much  given  to  genealogical 
studies,  to  write  the  history  of  the  house  of  Auvergne. 
In  this  history,  the  descent,  by  male  issue,  of  the 
Bouillons  from  the  Counts  of  Auvergne,  was  estab- 
lished upon  the  evidence  supplied  by  this  document. 
At  least,  nobody  doubted  that  such  was  the  case,  and 
the  world  was  strangely  scandalised  to  see  the  work 
appear  after  that  document  had  been  pronounced  to  be 
a  forgery.  Many  learned  men  and  friends  of  Baluze 
considered  him  so  dishonoured  by  it,  that  they  broke 
off  all  relations  with  him,  and  this  put  the  finishing 
touch  to  the  confusion  of  this  affair. 

On  Thursday,  the  7th  of  March,  1707,  a  strange 
event  troubled  the  King,  and  filled  the  Court  and  the 
town  with  rumours.  Beringhen,  first  master  of  the 
horse,  left  Versailles  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening  of 
that  day,  to  go  to  Paris,  alone  in  one  of  the  King's 
coaches,  two  of  the  royal  footmen  behind,  and  a  groom 
carrying  a  torch  before  him  on  the  seventh  horse.  The 
carriage  had  reached  the  plain  of  Bissancourt,  and  was 
passing  between  a  farm  on  the  road  near  Sevres  bridge 
and  a  cabaret,  called  the  "  Dawn  of  Day,"  when  it  was 
stopped  by  fifteen  or  sixteen  men  on  horseback,  who 
seized  on  Beringhen,  hurried  him  into  a  post-chaise  in 
waiting,  and  drove  off  with  him.  The  King's  carriage, 
with  the  coachman,  footmen,  and  groom,  was  allowed 
to  go  back  to  Versailles.  As  soon  as  it  reached  Ver- 
sailles the  King  was  informed  of  what  had  taken  place. 
He  sent  immediately  to  his  four  Secretaries  of  State, 
ordering  them  to  send  couriers  everywhere  to  the 
frontiers,  with  instructions  to  the  governors  to  guard 
all  the  passages,  so  that  if  these  horsemen  were  for- 
eign enemies,  as  was  suspected,  they  would  be  caught 
in  attempting  to  pass  out  of  the  kingdom.     It  was 


458  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

known  that  a  party  of  the  enemy  had  entered  Artois, 
that  they  had  committed  no  disorders,  but  that  they 
were  there  still.  Although  people  found  it  difficult,  at 
first,  to  believe  that  Beringhen  had  been  carried  off 
by  a  party  such  as  this,  yet  as  it  was  known  that  he 
had  no  enemies,  that  he  was  not  reputed  sufficiently 
rich  to  afford  hope  of  a  large  ransom,  and  that  not  one 
of  our  wealthiest  financiers  had  been  seized  in  this 
manner,  this  explanation  was  at  last  accepted  as  the 
right  one. 

So  in  fact  it  proved.  A  certain  Guetem,  a  fiddler  of 
the  Elector  of  Bavaria,  had  entered  the  service  of  Hol- 
land, had  taken  part  in  her  war  against  France,  and 
had  become  a  colonel.  Chatting  one  evening  with  his 
comrades,  he  laid  a  wager  that  he  would  carry  off  some 
one  of  mark  between  Paris  and  Versailles.  He  ob- 
tained a  passport,  and  thirty  chosen  men,  nearly  all 
of  whom  were  officers.  They  passed  the  rivers  dis- 
guised as  traders,  by  which  means  they  were  enabled 
to  post  their  relays  [of  horses].  Several  of  them  had 
remained  seven  or  eight  days  at  Sevres,  Saint  Cloud, 
and  Boulogne,  from  which  they  had  the  hardihood  to 
go  to  Versailles  and  see  the  King  sup.  One  of  these 
was  caught  on  the  day  after  the  disappearance  of 
Beringhen,  and  when  interrogated  by  Chamillart,  re- 
plied with  a  tolerable  amount  of  impudence.  Another 
was  caught  in  the  forest  of  Chantilly  by  one  of  the 
servants  of  M.  le  Prince.  From  him  it  became  known 
that  relays  of  horses  and  a  post-chaise  had  been  pro- 
vided at  Morliere  for  the  prisoner  when  he  should  ar- 
rive there,  and  that  he  had  already  passed  the  Oise. 

As  I  have  said,  couriers  were  despatched  to  the  gov- 
ernors of  the  frontiers;  in  addition  to  this,  informa- 
tion of  what  had  taken  place  was  sent  to  all  the  in- 
tendants  of  the  frontier,  to  all  the  troops  in  quarters 
there.     Several  of  the  King's  guards,   too,   and  the 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  459 

grooms  of  the  stable,  went  in  pursuit  of  the  captors  of 
Beringhen.  Notwithstanding  the  diligence  used,  the 
horsemen  had  traversed  the  Somme  and  had  gone  four 
leagues  beyond  Ham — Beringhen,  guarded  by  the  of- 
ficers, and  pledged  to  offer  no  resistance — when  the 
party  was  stopped  by  a  quartermaster  and  two  de- 
tachments of  the  Livry  regiment.  Beringhen  was  at 
once  set  at  liberty.  Guetem  and  his  companion  were 
made  prisoners. 

The  grand  fault  they  had  committed  was  to  allow 
the  King's  carriage  and  the  footmen  to  go  back  to  Ver- 
sailles so  soon  after  the  abduction.  Had  they  led 
away  the  coach  under  cover  of  the  night,  and  so  kept 
the  King  in  ignorance  of  their  doings  until  the  next 
day,  they  would  have  had  more  time  for  their  retreat. 
Instead  of  doing  this  they  fatigued  themselves  by  too 
much  haste.  They  had  grown  tired  of  waiting  for  a 
carriage  that  seemed  likely  to  contain  somebody  of 
mark.  The  Chancellor  had  passed,  but  in  broad  day- 
light, and  they  were  afraid  in  consequence  to  stop  him. 
M.  le  Due  d'Orleans  had  passed,  but  in  a  post-chaise, 
which  they  mistrusted.  At  last  Beringhen  appeared 
in  one  of  the  King's  coaches,  attended  by  servants  in 
the  King's  livery,  and  wearing  his  cordon  bleu,  as  was 
his  custom.  They  thought  they  had  found  a  prize  in- 
deed. They  soon  learnt  with  whom  they  had  to  deal, 
and  told  him  also  who  they  were.  Guetem  bestowed 
upon  Beringhen  all  kinds  of  attention,  and  testified  a 
great  desire  to  spare  him  as  much  as  possible  all  fa- 
tigue. He  pushed  his  attentions  so  far  that  they 
caused  his  failure.  He  allowed  Beringhen  to  stop  and 
rest  on  two  occasions.  The  party  missed  one  of  their 
relays,  and  that  delayed  them  very  much. 

Beringhen,  delighted  with  his  rescue,  and  very  grate- 
ful for  the  good  treatment  he  had  received,  changed 
places  with  Guetem  and  his  companions,  led  them  to 


460  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

Ham,  and  in  his  turn  treated  them  well.  He  wrote  to 
his  wife  and  to  Chamillart  announcing  his  release,  and 
these  letters  were  read  with  much  satisfaction  by  the 
King. 

On  Tuesday,  the  29th  of  March,  Beringhen  arrived 
at  Versailles,  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and 
went  at  once  to  the  King,  who  was  in  the  apartments 
of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  who  received  him  well, 
and  made  him  relate  all  his  adventures.  But  the  King 
was  not  pleased  when  he  found  the  officers  of  the 
stable  in  a  state  of  great  delight,  and  preparing  fire- 
works to  welcome  Beringhen  back.  He  prohibited  all 
these  marks  of  rejoicing,  and  would  not  allow  the  fire- 
works to  be  let  off.  He  had  these  little  jealousies.  He 
wished  that  all  should  be  devoted  to  him  alone,  with- 
out reserve  and  without  division.  All  the  Court,  how- 
ever, showed  interest  in  this  return,  and  Beringhen 
was  consoled  by  the  public  welcome  he  received  for 
his  fatigue. 

Guetem  and  his  officers,  while  waiting  the  pleasure 
of  the  King,  were  lodged  in  Beringhen's  house  in 
Paris,  where  they  were  treated  above  their  deserts. 
Beringhen  obtained  permission  for  Guetem  to  see  the 
King.  He  did  more;  he  presented  Guetem  to  the 
King,  who  praised  him  for  having  so  well  treated  his 
prisoner,  and  said  that  war  always  ought  to  be  con- 
ducted properly.  Guetem,  who  was  not  without  wit, 
replied,  that  he  was  so  astonished  to  find  himself  be- 
fore the  greatest  King  in  the  world,  and  to  find  that 
King  doing  him  the  honour  of  speaking  to  him,  that 
he  had  not  power  enough  to  answer.  He  remained  ten 
or  twelve  days  in  Beringhen's  house  to  see  Paris,  the 
Opera  and  the  Comedy,  and  became  the  talk  of  the 
town.  People  ran  after  him  everywhere,  and  the  most 
distinguished  were  not  ashamed  to  do  likewise.  On 
all  sides  he  was  applauded  for  an  act  of  temerity,  which 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  461 

might  have  passed  for  insolence.  Beringhen  regaled 
him,  furnished  him  with  carriages  and  servants  to  ac- 
company him,  and,  at  parting,  with  money  and  con- 
siderable presents.  Guetem  went  on  his  parole  to 
Rheims  to  rejoin  his  comrades  until  exchanged,  and 
had  the  town  for  prison.  Nearly  all  the  others  had 
escaped.  The  project  was  nothing  less  than  to  carry 
off  Monseigneur,  or  one  of  the  princes,  his  sons. 

This  ridiculous  adventure  gave  rise  to  precautions, 
excessive  in  the  first  place,  and  which  caused  sad  ob- 
structions of  bridges  and  gates.  It  caused,  too,  a  num- 
ber of  people  to  be  arrested.  The  hunting  parties  of 
the  princes  were  for  some  time  interfered  with,  until 
matters  resumed  their  usual  course.  But  it  was  not 
bad  fun  to  see,  during  some  time,  the  terror  of  ladies, 
and  even  of  men,  of  the  Court,  who  no  longer  dared 
go  abroad  except  in  broad  daylight,  even  then  with 
little  assurance,  and  imagining  themselves  everywhere 
in  marvellous  danger  of  capture. 

I  have  related  in  its  proper  place  the  adventure  of 
Madame  la  Princesse  de  Conti  with  Mademoiselle 
Choin  and  the  attachment  of  Monseigneur  for  the  lat- 
ter. This  attachment  was  only  augmented  by  the  diffi- 
culty of  seeing  each  other. 

Mademoiselle  Choin  retired  to  the  house  of  Lacroix, 
one  of  her  relatives  at  Paris,  where  she  lived  quite 
hidden.  She  was  informed  of  the  rare  days  when 
Monseigneur  dined  alone  at  Meudon,  without  sleeping 
there.  She  went  there  the  dav  before  in  a  fiacre, 
passed  through  the  courts  on  foot,  ill  clad,  like  a  com- 
mon sort  of  woman  going  to  see  some  officer  at  Meu- 
don, and,  by  a  back  staircase,  was  admitted  to  Mon- 
seigneur who  passed  some  hours  with  her  in  a  little 
apartment  on  the  first  floor.  In  time  she  came  there 
with  a  lady's-maid,  her  parcel  in  her  pocket,  on  the 
evenings  of  the  days  that  Monseigneur  slept  there. 


462  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

She  remained  in  this  apartment  without  seeing  any- 
body, attended  by  her  lady's-maid,  and  waited  upon  by 
a  servant  who  alone  was  in  the  secret. 

Little  by  little  the  friends  of  Monseigneur  were  al- 
lowed to  see  her;  and  amongst  these  were  M.  le  Prince 
de  Conti,  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne,  Ma- 
dame la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  and  M.  le  Due  de 
Berry.  There  was  always,  however,  an  air  of  mys- 
tery about  the  matter.  The  parties  that  took  place 
were  kept  secret,  although  frequent,  and  were  called 
parvalos. 

Mademoiselle  Choin  remained  in  her  little  apart- 
ment only  for  the  convenience  of  Monseigneur.  She 
slept  in  the  bed  and  in  the  grand  apartment  where  Ma- 
dame la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  lodged  when  the 
King  was  at  Meudon.  She  always  sat  in  an  arm-chair 
before  Monseigneur;  Madame  de  Bourgogne  sat  on  a 
stool.  Mademoiselle  Choin  never  rose  for  her;  in 
speaking  of  her,  even  before  Monseigneur  and  the 
company,  she  used  to  say  "  the  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne," and  lived  with  her  as  Madame  de  Maintenon 
did  excepting  that  "  darling  "  and  "  my  aunt,"  were 
terms  not  exchanged  between  them,  and  that  Madame 
de  Bourgogne  was  not  nearly  so  free,  or  so  much  at 
her  ease,  as  with  the  King  and  Madame  de  Maintenon. 
Monsieur  de  Bourgogne  was  much  in  restraint.  His 
manners  did  not  agree  with  those  of  that  world.  Mon- 
seigneur le  Due  de  Berry,  who  was  more  free,  was 
quite  at  home. 

Mademoiselle  Choin  went  on  fete-days  to  hear  mass 
in  the  chapel  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  well 
wrapped  up,  and  took  her  meals  alone,  when  Mon- 
seigneur did  not  eat  with  her.  When  he  was  alone 
with  her,  the  doors  were  all  guarded  and  barricaded  to 
keep  out  intruders.  People  regarded  her  as  being  to 
Monseigneur,  what  Madame  de  Maintenon  was  to  the 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  463 

King.  All  the  batteries  for  the  future  were  directed 
and  pointed  towards  her.  People  schemed  to  gain  per- 
mission to  visit  her  at  Paris ;  people  paid  court  to  her 
friends  and  acquaintances,  Monseigneur  le  Due  de 
Bourgogne  sought  to  please  her,  was  respectful  to  her, 
attentive  to  her  friends,  not  always  with  success.  She 
acted  towards  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne  like 
a  mother-in-law,  and  sometimes  spoke  with  such 
authority  and  bluntness  to  Madame  de  Bourgogne  as 
to  make  her  cry. 

The  King  and  Madame  de  Maintenon  were  in  no 
way  ignorant  of  all  this,  but  they  held  their  tongues, 
and  all  the  Court  who  knew  it,  spoke  only  in  whispers 
of  it.  This  is  enough  for  the  present;  it  will  serve  to 
explain  many  things,  of  which  I  shall  speak  anon. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

ON  Wednesday,  the  27th  of  May,  1707,  at  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  Madame  de  Mon- 
tespan,  aged  sixty,  died  very  suddenly  at  the 
waters  of  Bourbon.  Her  death  made  much  stir,  al- 
though she  had  long  retired  from  the  Court  and  from 
the  world,  and  preserved  no  trace  of  the  commanding 
influence  she  had  so  long  possessed.  I  need  not  go 
back  beyond  my  own  experience,  and  to  the  time  of 
her  reign  as  mistress  of  the  King.  I  will  simply  say, 
because  the  anecdote  is  little  known,  that  her  conduct 
was  more  the  fault  of  her  husband  than  her  own.  She 
warned  him  as  soon  as  she  suspected  the  King  to  be  in 
love  with  her ;  and  told  him  when  there  was  no  longer 
any  doubt  upon  her  mind.  She  assured  him  that  a 
great  entertainment  that  the  King  gave  was  in  her 
honour.  She  pressed  him,  she  entreated  him  in  the 
most  eloquent  manner,  to  take  her  away  to  his  estates 
of  Guyenne,  and  leave  her  there  until  the  King  had 
forgotten  her  or  chosen  another  mistress.  It  was  all 
to  no  purpose;  and  Montespan  was  not  long  before 
repentance  seized  him;  for  his  torment  was  that  he 
loved  her  all  his  life,  and  died  still  in  love  with  her — 
although  he  would  never  consent  to  see  her  again  after 
the  first  scandal. 

Nor  will  I  speak  of  the  divers  degrees  which  the 
fear  of  the  devil  at  various  times  put  to  her  separa- 
tion from  the  Court;  and  I  will  elsewhere  speak  of 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  who  owed  her  everything, 
who  fed  her  on  serpents,  and  who  at  last  ousted  her 
from  the  Court.     What  no  one  dared  to  say,  what  the 

464 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  465 

King  himself  dared  not,  M.  du  Maine,  her  son,  dared. 
M.  de  Meaux  (Bossuet)  did  the  rest.  She  went  in 
tears  and  fury,  and  never  forgave  M.  du  Maine,  who 
by  his  strange  service  gained  over  for  ever  to  his  in- 
terests the  heart  and  the  mighty  influence  of  Madame 
de  Maintenon. 

The  mistress,  retired  amongst  the  Community  of 
Saint  Joseph,  which  she  had  built,  was  long  in  accus- 
toming herself  to  it.  She  carried  about  her  idleness 
and  unhappiness  to  Bourbon,  to  Fontevrault,  to  D'An- 
tin ;  she  was  many  years  without  succeeding  in  obtain- 
ing mastery  over  herself.  At  last  God  touched  her. 
Her  sin  had  never  been  accompanied  by  forgetful- 
ness ;  she  used  often  to  leave  the  King  to  go  and  pray 
in  her  cabinet ;  nothing  could  ever  make  her  evade  any 
fast  day  or  meagre  day;  her  austerity  in  fasting  con- 
tinued amidst  all  her  dissipation.  She  gave  alms,  was 
esteemed  by  good  people,  never  gave  way  to  doubt  or 
impiety;  but  she  was  imperious,  haughty  and  over- 
bearing, full  of  mockery,  and  of  all  the  qualities  by 
which  beauty  with  the  power  it  bestows  is  naturally 
accompanied.  Being  resolved  at  last  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  an  opportunity  which  had  been  given  her 
against  her  will,  she  put  herself  in  the  hands  of  Pere 
de  la  Tour,  that  famous  General  of  the  Oratory.  From 
that  moment  to  the  time  of  her  death  her  conversion 
continued  steadily,  and  her  penitence  augmented.  She 
had  first  to  get  rid  of  the  secret  fondness  she  still  en- 
tertained for  the  Court,  even  of  the  hopes  which, 
however  chimerical,  had  always  flattered  her.  She 
was  persuaded  that  nothing  but  the  fear  of  the  devil 
had  forced  the  King  to  separate  himself  from  her,  that 
it  was  nothing  but  this  fear  that  had  raised  Madame 
de  Maintenon  to  the  height  she  had  attained ;  that  age 
and  ill-health,  which  she  was  pleased  to  imagine,  would 
soon  clear  the  way ;  that  when  the  King  was  a  widower, 


466  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

she  being  a  widow,  nothing  would  oppose  their  re- 
union, which  might  easily  be  brought  about  by  their 
affection  for  their  children.  These  children  enter- 
tained similar  hopes,  and  were  therefore  assiduous  in 
their  attention  to  her  for  some  time. 

Pere  de  la  Tour  made  her  perform  a  terrible  act  of 
penitence.  It  was  to  ask  pardon  of  her  husband,  and 
to  submit  herself  to  his  commands.  To  all  who  knew 
Madame  de  Montespan  this  will  seem  the  most  heroic 
sacrifice.  M.  de  Montespan,  however,  imposed  no  re- 
straint upon  his  wife.  He  sent  word  that  he  wished 
in  no  way  to  interfere  with  her,  or  even  to  see  her.  She 
experienced  no  further  trouble,  therefore,  on  this  score. 

Little  by  little  she  gave  almost  all  she  had  to  the 
poor.  She  worked  for  them  several  hours  a  day,  mak- 
ing stout  shirts  and  such  things  for  them.  Her  table, 
that  she  had  loved  to  excess,  became  the  most  frugal ; 
her  fasts  multiplied ;  she  would  interrupt  her  meals  in 
order  to  go  and  pray.  Her  mortifications  were  con- 
tinued ;  her  chemises  and  her  sheets  were  of  rough 
linen,  of  the  hardest  and  thickest  kind,  but  hidden 
under  others  of  ordinary  kind.  She  unceasingly  wore 
bracelets,  garters,  and  a  girdle,  all  armed  with  iron 
points,  which  oftentimes  inflicted  wounds  upon  her; 
and  her  tongue,  formerly  so  dangerous,  had  also  its 
peculiar  penance  imposed  on  it.  She  was,  moreover, 
so  tormented  with  the  fear  of  death,  that  she  em- 
ployed several  women,  whose  sole  occupation  was  to 
watch  her.  She  went  to  sleep  with  all  the  curtains  of 
her  bed  open,  many  lights  in  her  chamber,  and  her 
women  around  her.  Whenever  she  awoke  she  wished 
to  find  them  chatting,  playing,  or  enjoying  themselves, 
so  as  to  re-assure  herself  against  their  drowsiness. 

With  all  this  she  could  never  throw  off  the  manners 
of  a  queen.  She  had  an  arm-chair  in  her  chamber 
with  its  back  turned  to  the  foot  of  the  bed.     There 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  467 

was  no  other  in  the  chamber,  not  even  when  her 
natural  children  came  to  see  her,  not  even  for  Madame 
la  Duchesse  d'Orleans.  She  was  oftentimes  visited 
by  the  most  distinguished  people  of  the  Court,  and  she 
spoke  like  a  queen  to  all.  She  treated  everybody  with 
much  respect,  and  was  treated  so  in  turn.  I  have 
mentioned  in  its  proper  place,  that  a  short  time  before 
her  death,  the  King  gave  her  a  hundred  thousand 
francs  to  buy  an  estate ;  but  this  present  was  not  gratis, 
for  she  had  to  send  back  a  necklace  worth  a  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand,  to  which  the  King  made  additions, 
and  bestowed  it  on  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne. 

The  last  time  Madame  de  Montespan  went  to  Bour- 
bon she  paid  all  her  charitable  pensions  and  gratuities 
two  years  in  advance  and  doubled  her  alms.  Although 
in  good  health  she  had  a  presentiment  that  she  should 
return  no  more.  This  presentiment,  in  effect,  proved 
correct.  She  felt  herself  so  ill  one  night,  although  she 
had  been  very  well  just  before,  that  she  confessed  her- 
self, and  received  the  sacrament.  Previous  to  this  she 
called  all  her  servants  into  her  room  and  made  a  public 
confession  of  her  public  sins,  asking  pardon  for  the 
scandal  she  had  caused  with  a  humility  so  decent,  so 
profound,  so  penitent,  that  nothing  could  be  more  edi- 
fying. She  received  the  last  sacrament  with  an  ardent 
piety.  The  fear  of  death  which  all  her  life  had  so  con- 
tinually troubled  her,  disappeared  suddenly,  and  dis- 
turbed her  no  more.  She  died,  without  regret,  oc- 
cupied only  with  thoughts  of  eternity,  and  with  a 
sweetness  and  tranquillity  that  accompanied  all  her 
actions. 

Her  only  son  by  Monsieur  de  Montespan,  whom  she 
had  treated  like  a  mother-in-law,  until  her  separation 
from  the  King,  but  who  had  since  returned  to  her  affec- 
tion, D'Antin,  arrived  just  before  her  death.  She 
looked  at  him,  and  only  said  that  he  saw  her  in  a  very 


468  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

different  state  to  what  he  had  seen  her  at  Bellegarde. 
As  soon  as  she  was  dead  he  set  out  for  Paris,  leaving 
orders  for  her  obsequies,  which  were  strange,  or  were 
strangely  executed.  Her  body,  formerly  so  perfect, 
became  the  prey  of  the  unskil fulness  and  the  ignorance 
of  a  surgeon.  The  obsequies  were  at  the  discretion  of 
the  commonest  valets,  all  the  rest  of  the  house  having 
suddenly  deserted.  The  body  remained  a  long  time 
at  the  door  of  the  house,  whilst  the  canons  of  the 
Sainte  Chapelle  and  the  priests  of  the  parish  disputed 
about  the  order  of  precedence  with  more  than  in- 
decency. It  was  put  in  keeping  under  care  of  the 
parish,  like  the  corpse  of  the  meanest  citizen  of  the 
place,  and  not  until  a  long  time  afterwards  was  it  sent 
to  Poitiers  to  be  placed  in  the  family  tomb,  and  then 
with  an  unworthy  parsimony.  Madame  de  Montespan 
was  bitterly  regretted  by  all  the  poor  of  the  province, 
amongst  whom  she  spread  an  infinity  of  alms,  as  well 
as  amongst  others  of  different  degree. 

As  for  the  King,  his  perfect  insensibility  at  the  death 
of  a  mistress  he  had  so  passionately  loved,  and  for  so 
many  years,  was  so  extreme,  that  Madame  de  Bour- 
gogne  could  not  keep  her  surprise  from  him.  He  re^ 
plied,  tranquilly,  that  since  he  had  dismissed  her  he 
had  reckoned  upon  never  seeing  her  again,  and  that 
thus  she  was  from  that  time  dead  to  him.  It  is  easy 
to  believe  that  the  grief  of  the  children  he  had  had  by 
her  did  not  please  him.  Those  children  did  not  dare 
to  wear  mourning  for  a  mother  not  recognised.  Their 
appearance,  therefore,  contrasted  with  that  of  the  chil- 
dren of  Madame  de  la  Valliere,  who  had  just  died,  and 
for  whom  they  were  wearing  mourning.  Nothing 
could  equal  the  grief  which  Madame  la  Duchesse  d'Or- 
leans,  Madame  la  Duchesse,  and  the  Comte  de  Tou- 
louse exhibited.  The  grief  of  Madame  la  Duchesse 
especially  was  astonishing,  for  she  always  prided  her- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  469 

self  on  loving  nobody;  still  more  astonishing  was  the 
grief  of  M.  le  Due,  so  inaccessible  to  friendship.  We 
must  remember,  however,  that  this  death  put  an  end 
to  many  hopes.  M.  du  Maine,  for  his  part,  could 
scarcely  repress  his  joy  at  the  death  of  his  mother,  and 
after  having  stopped  away  from  Marly  two  days,  re- 
turned and  caused  the  Comte  de  Toulouse  to  be  re- 
called likewise.  Madame  de  Maintenon,  delivered  of 
a  former  rival,  whose  place  she  had  taken,  ought,  it 
might  have  been  thought,  to  have  felt  relieved.  It  was 
otherwise ;  remorse  for  the  benefits  she  had  received 
from  Madame  de  Montespan,  and  for  the  manner  in 
which  those  benefits  had  been  repaid,  overwhelmed 
her.  Tears  stole  down  her  cheeks,  and  she  went  into 
a  strange  privacy  to  hide  them.  Madame  de  Bour- 
gogne,  who  followed,  was  speechless  with  astonish- 
ment. 

The  life  and  conduct  of  so  famous  a  mistress,  sub- 
sequent to  her  forced  retirement,  have  appeared  to  me 
sufficiently  curious  to  describe  at  length;  and  what 
happened  at  her  death  was  equally  characteristic  of 
the  Court. 

The  death  of  the  Duchesse  de  Nemours,  which  fol- 
lowed quickly  upon  that  of  Madame  de  Montespan, 
made  still  more  stir  in  the  world,  but  of  another  kind. 
Madame  de  Nemours  was  daughter,  by  a  first  mar- 
riage, of  the  last  Due  de  Longueville.  She  was  ex- 
tremely rich,  and  lived  in  great  splendour.  She  had  a 
strange  look,  and  a  droll  way  of  dressing, — big  eyes 
with  which  she  could  scarcely  see,  a  shoulder  that  con- 
stantly twitched,  grey  hairs  that  she  wore  flowing,  and 
a  very  imposing  air.  She  had  a  very  bad  temper,  and 
could  not  forgive.  When  somebody  asked  her  if  she 
said  the  Pater,  she  replied,  yes,  but  that  she  passed  by 
without  saying  it  the  clause  respecting  pardon  for  our 
enemies.     She  did  not  like  her  kinsfolk,  the  Matignons, 


47o  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

and  would  never  see  nor  speak  to  any  of  them.  One 
day  talking  to  the  King  at  a  window  of  his  cabinet, 
she  saw  Matignon  passing  in  the  court  below.  Where- 
upon she  set  to  spitting  five  or  six  times  running,  and 
then  turned  to  the  King  and  begged  his  pardon,  say- 
ing, that  she  could  never  see  a  Matignon  without  spit- 
ting in  that  manner.  It  may  be  imagined  that  devo- 
tion did  not  incommode  her.  She  herself  used  to  tell 
a  story,  that  having  entered  one  day  a  confessional, 
without  being  followed  into  the  church,  neither  her  ap- 
pearance nor  her  dress  gave  her  confessor  an  idea  of 
her  rank.  She  spoke  of  her  great  wealth,  and  said 
much  about  the  Princes  de  Conde  and  de  Conti.  The 
confessor  told  her  to  pass  by  all  that.  She,  feeling 
that  the  case  was  a  serious  one,  insisted  upon  explain- 
ing and  made  allusion  to  her  large  estates  and  her  mil- 
lions. The  good  priest  believed  her  mad,  and  told  her 
to  calm  herself;  to  get  rid  of  such  ideas;  to  think  no 
more  of  them;  and  above  all  to  eat  good  soups,  if  she 
had  the  means  to  procure  them.  Seized  with  anger 
she  rose  and  left  the  place.  The  confessor  out  of  curi- 
osity followed  her  to  the  door.  When  he  saw  the 
good  lady,  whom  he  thought  mad,  received  by  grooms, 
waiting  women,  and  so  on,  he  had  like  to  have  fallen 
backwards ;  but  he  ran  to  the  coach  door  and  asked  her 
pardon.  It  was  now  her  turn  to  laugh  at  him,  and 
she  got  off  scot-free  that  day  from  the  confessional. 

Madame  de  Nemours  had  amongst  other  posses- 
sions the  sovereignty  of  Neufchatel.  As  soon  as  she 
was  dead,  various  claimants  arose  to  dispute  the  suc- 
cession. Madame  de  Mailly  laid  claim  to  it,  as  to  the 
succession  to  the  principality  of  Orange,  upon  the 
strength  of  a  very  doubtful  alliance  with  the  house  of 
Chalons,  and  hoped  to  be  supported  by  Madame  de 
Maintenon.  But  Madame  de  Maintenon  laughed  at 
her  chimeras,  as  they  were  laughed  at  in  Switzerland. 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  471 

M.  le  Prince  de  Conti  was  another  claimant.  He  based 
his  right  upon  the  will  of  the  last  Due  de  Longueville, 
by  which  he  had  been  called  to  all  the  Duke's  wealth, 
after  the  Comte  de  Saint  Paul,  his  brother,  and  his 
posterity.  In  addition  to  these,  there  were  Matignon 
and  the  dowager  Duchesse  de  Lesdiguieres,  who 
claimed  Neufchatel  by  right  of  their  relationship  to 
Madame  de  Nemours. 

Matignon  was  an  intimate  friend  of  Chamillart,  who 
did  not  like  the  Prince  de  Conti,  and  was  the  declared 
enemy  of  the  Marechal  de  Villeroy,  the  representative 
of  Madame  de  Lesdiguieres,  in  this  affair.  Chamillart, 
therefore,  persuaded  the  King  to  remain  neutral,  and 
aided  Matignon  by  money  and  influence  to  get  the 
start  of  the  other  claimants. 

The  haughty  citizens  of  Neufchatel  saw  then  all  these 
suitors  begging  for  their  suffrages,  when  a  minister 
of  the  Elector  of  Brandenbourg  appeared  amongst 
them,  and  disputed  the  pretensions  of  the  Prince  de 
Conti  in  favour  of  his  master,  the  Elector  of  Branden- 
bourg (King  of  Prussia),  who  drew  his  claim  from 
the  family  of  Chalons.  It  was  more  distant,  more  en- 
tangled if  possible,  than  that  of  Madame  de  Mailly. 
He  only  made  use  of  it,  therefore,  as  a  pretext.  His 
reasons  were  his  religion,  in  conformity  with  that  of 
the  country;  the  support  of  the  neighbouring  Prot- 
estant cantons,  allies,  and  protectors  of  Neufchatel; 
the  pressing  reflection  that  the  principality  of  Orange 
having  fallen  by  the  death  of  William  III.  to  M.  le 
Prince  de  Conti,  the  King  (Louis  XIV.)  had  appro- 
priated it  and  recompensed  him  for  it :  and  that  he 
might  act  similarly  if  Neufchatel  fell  to  one  of  his  sub- 
jects ;  lastly,  a  treaty  produced  in  good  form,  by  which, 
in  the  event  of  the  death  of  Madame  de  Nemours,  Eng- 
land and  Holland  agreed  to  declare  for  the  Elector  of 
Brandenbourg,  and  to  assist  him  by  force  in  procur- 


472  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

ing  this  little  state.  This  minister  of  the  Elector  was 
in  concert  with  the  Protestant  cantons,  who  upon  his 
declaration  at  once  sided  with  him;  and  who,  by  the 
money  spent,  the  conformity  of  religion,  the  power  of 
the  Elector,  the  reflection  of  what  had  happened  at 
Orange,  found  nearly  all  the  suffrages  favourable.  So 
striking  while  the  iron  was  hot,  they  obtained  a  pro- 
visional judgment  from  Neufchatel,  which  adjudged 
their  state  to  the  Elector  until  the  peace;  and  in  con- 
sequence of  this,  his  minister  was  put  into  actual  pos- 
session, and  M.  le  Prince  de  Conti  saw  himself  con- 
strained to  return  more  shamefully  than  he  had  re- 
turned once  before,  and  was  followed  by  the  other 
claimants. 

Madame  de  Mailly  made  such  an  uproar  at  the  news 
of  this  intrusion  of  the  Elector,  that  at  last  the  atten- 
tion of  our  ministers  was  awakened.  They  found, 
with  her,  that  it  was  the  duty  of  the  King  not  to  allow 
this  morsel  to  be  carried  off  from  his  subjects;  and 
that  there  was  danger  in  leaving  it  in  the  hands  of 
such  a  powerful  Protestant  prince,  capable  of  making 
a  fortified  place  of  it  so  close  to  the  county  of  Bur- 
gundy, and  on  a  frontier  so  little  protected.  There- 
upon, the  King  despatched  a  courier  to  our  minister  in 
Switzerland,  with  orders  to  go  to  Neufchatel,  and  em- 
ploy every  means,  even  menaces,  to  exclude  the  Elector, 
and  to  promise  that  the  neutrality  of  France  should  be 
maintained  if  one  of  .her  subjects  was  selected,  no  mat- 
ter which  one.  It  was  too  late.  The  affair  was  fin- 
ished ;  the  cantons  were  engaged,  without  means  of 
withdrawing.  They,  moreover,  were  piqued  into  re- 
sistance, by  an  appeal  to  their  honour  by  the  electoral 
minister,  who  insisted  on  the  menaces  of  Puysieux,  our 
representative,  to  whose  memoir  the  ministers  of  Eng- 
land and  Holland  printed  a  violent  reply.  The  provi- 
sional judgment  received  no  alteration.     Shame  was 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  473 

felt;  and  resentment  was  testified  during  six  weeks; 
after  which,  for  lack  of  being  able  to  do  better,  this 
resentment  was  appeased  of  itself.  It  may  be  imagined 
what  hope  remained  to  the  claimants  of  reversing  at 
the  peace  this  provisional  judgment,  and  of  struggling 
against  a  prince  so  powerful  and  so  solidly  supported. 
No  mention  of  it  was  afterwards  made,  and  Neuf- 
chatel  has  remained  ever  since  fully  and  peaceably  to 
this  prince,  who  was  even  expressly  confirmed  in  his 
possession  at  the  peace  by  France. 

The  armies  assembled  this  year  towards  the  end  of 
May,  and  the  campaign  commenced.  The  Due  de 
Vendome  was  in  command  in  Flanders,  under  the 
Elector  of  Bavaria,  and  by  his  sloth  fulness  and  inat- 
tention, allowed  Marlborough  to  steal  a  march  upon 
him,  which,  but  for  the  failure  of  some  of  the  arrange- 
ments, might  have  caused  serious  loss  to  our  troops. 
The  enemy  was  content  to  keep  simply  on  the  defen- 
sive after  this,  having  projects  of  attack  in  hand  else- 
where to  which  I  shall  soon  allude. 

On  the  Rhine,  the  Marechal  de  Villars  was  in  com- 
mand, and  was  opposed  by  the  Marquis  of  Bayreuth, 
and  afterwards  by  the  Duke  of  Hanover,  since  King 
of  England.  Villars  was  so  far  successful,  that  finding 
himself  feebly  opposed  by  the  Imperials,  he  penetrated 
into  Germany,  after  having  made  himself  master  of 
Heidelberg,  Mannheim,  and  all  the  Palatinate,  and 
seized  upon  a  number  of  cannons,  provisions,  and  mu- 
nitions of  war.  He  did  not  forget  to  tax  the  enemy 
wherever  he  went.  He  gathered  immense  sums — 
treasures  beyond  all  his  hopes.  Thus  gorged,  he  could 
not  hope  that  his  brigandage  would  remain  unknown. 
He  put  on  a  bold  face  and  wrote  to  the  King,  that  the 
army  would  cost  him  nothing  this  year.  Villars 
begged  at  the  same  time  to  be  allowed  to  appropriate 
some  of  the  money  he  had  acquired  to  the  levelling 


474  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

of  a  hill  on  his  estate  which  displeased  him.  x\nother 
than  he  would  have  been  dishonoured  by-  such  a  re- 
quest. But  it  made  no  difference  in  his  respect,  ex- 
cept with  the  public,  with  whom,  however,  he  occu- 
pied himself  but  little.  His  booty  clutched,  he  thought 
of  withdrawing  from  the  enemy's  country,  and  passing 
the  Rhine. 

He  crossed  it  tranquilly,  with  his  army  and  his  im- 
mense booty,  despite  the  attempts  of  the  Duke  of 
Hanover  to  prevent  him,  and  as  soon  as  he  was  on  this 
side,  had  no  care  but  how  to  terminate  the  campaign 
in  repose.  Thus  finished  a  campaign  tolerably  bril- 
liant, if  the  sordid  and  prodigious  gain  of  the  general 
had  not  soiled  it.  Yet  that  general,  on  his  return,  was 
not  less  well  received  by  the  King. 

At  sea  we  had  successes.  Frobin,  with  vessels  more 
feeble  than  the  four  English  ones  of  seventy  guns, 
which  convoyed  a  fleet  of  eighteen  ships  loaded  with 
provisions  and  articles  of  war,  took  two  of  those  ves- 
sels of  war  and  the  eighteen  merchantmen,  after  four 
hours'  fighting,  and  set  fire  to  one  of  the  two  others. 
Three  months  after  he  took  at  the  mouth  of  the  Dwina 
seven  richly-loaded  Dutch  merchant-ships,  bound  for 
Muscovy.  He  took  or  sunk  more  than  fifty  during 
this  campaign.  Afterwards  he  took  three  large  Eng- 
lish ships  of  war  that  he  led  to  Brest,  and  sank  an- 
other of  a  hundred  guns.  The  English  of  New  Eng- 
land and  of  New  York  were  not  more  successful  in 
Acadia;  they  attacked  our  colony  twelve  days  run- 
ning, without  success,  and  were  obliged  to  retire  with 
much  loss. 

The  maritime  year  finished  by  a  terrible  tempest 
upon  the  coast  of  Holland,  which  caused  many  vessels 
to  perish  in  the  Texel,  and  submerged  a  large  number 
of  districts  and  villages.  France  had  also  its  share  of 
these  catastrophes.     The  Loire  overflowed  in  a  man- 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  475 

ner  hitherto  unheard  of,  broke  down  the  embankments, 
inundated  and  covered  with  sand  many  parts  of  the 
country,  carried  away  villages,  drowned  numbers  of 
people  and  a  quantity  of  cattle,  and  caused  damage  to 
the  amount  of  above  eight  millions.  This  was  another 
of  our  obligations  to  M.  de  la  Feuillade — an  obligation 
which  we  have  not  yet  escaped  from.  Nature,  wiser 
than  man,  had  placed  rocks  in  the  Loire  above  Roanne, 
which  prevented  navigation  to  that  place,  the  principal 
in  the  duchy  of  M.  de  la  Feuillade.  His  father, 
tempted  by  the  profit  of  this  navigation,  wished  to  get 
rid  of  the  rocks.  Orleans,  Blois,  Tours,  in  one  word, 
all  the  places  on  the  Loire,  opposed  this.  They  rep- 
resented the  danger  of  inundations;  they  were  listened 
to,  and  although  the  M.  de  la  Feuillade  of  that  day  was 
a  favourite,  and  on  good  terms  with  M.  Colbert,  he 
was  not  allowed  to  carry  out  his  wishes  with  respect  to 
these  rocks.  His  son,  the  M.  de  la  Feuillade  whom 
we  have  seen  figuring  with  so  little  distinction  at  the 
siege  of  Turin,  had  more  credit.  Without  listening  to 
anybody,  he  blew  up  the  rocks,  and  the  navigation  was 
rendered  free  in  his  favour;  the  inundations  that  they 
used  to  prevent  have  overflowed  since  at  immense  loss 
to  the  King  and  private  individuals.  The  cause  was 
clearly  seen  afterwards,  but  then  it  was  too  late. 

The  little  effort  made  by  the  enemy  in  Flanders  and 
Germany,  had  a  cause,  which  began  to  be  perceived 
towards  the  middle  of  July.  We  had  been  forced  to 
abandon  Italy.  By  a  shameful  treaty  that  was  made, 
all  our  troops  had  retired  from  that  country  into  Savoy. 
We  had  given  up  everything.  Prince  Eugene,  who 
had  had  the  glory  of  driving  us  out  of  Italy,  remained 
there  some  time,  and  then  entered  the  county  of  Nice. 

Forty  of  the  enemy's  vessels  arrived  at  Nice  shortly 
afterwards,  and  landed  artillery.  M.  de  Savoie  ar- 
rived there  also,  with  six  or  seven  thousand  men.     It 


476  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  THE 

was  now  no  longer  hidden  that  the  siege  of  Toulon 
was  determined  on.  Every  preparation  was  at  once 
made  to  defend  the  place.  Tesse  was  in  command. 
The  delay  of  a  day  on  the  part  of  the  enemy  saved 
Toulon,  and  it  may  be  said,  France.  M.  de  Savoie 
had  been  promised  money  by  the  English.  They  dis- 
puted a  whole  day  about  the  payment,  and  so  retarded 
the  departure  of  the  fleet  from  Nice.  In  the  end,  see- 
ing M.  de  Savoie  firm,  they  paid  him  a  million,  which 
he  received  himself.  But  in  the  mean  time  twenty- 
one  of  our  battalions  had  had  time  to  arrive  at  Toulon. 
They  decided  the  fortune  of  the  siege.  After  several 
unsuccessful  attempts  to  take  the  place,  the  enemy  gave 
up  the  siege  and  retired  in  the  night,  between  the  22nd 
and  23rd  of  August,  in  good  order,  and  without  being 
disturbed.  Our  troops  could  obtain  no  sort  of  as- 
sistance from  the  people  of  Provence,  so  as  to  harass 
M.  de  Savoie  in  his  passage  of  the  Var.  They  refused 
money,  militia,  and  provisions  bluntly,  saying  that  it 
was  no  matter  to  them  who  came,  and  that  M.  de 
Savoie  could  not  torment  them  more  than  they  were 
tormented  already. 

The  important  news  of  a  deliverance  so  desired  ar- 
rived at  Marly  on  Friday,  the  26th  of  August,  and 
overwhelmed  all  the  Court  with  joy.  A  scandalous 
fuss  arose,  however,  out  of  this  event.  The  first 
courier  who  brought  the  intelligence  of  it,  had  been 
despatched  by  the  commander  of  the  fleet,  and  had 
been  conducted  to  the  King  by  Pontchartrain,  who  had 
the  affairs  of  the  navy  under  his  control.  The  courier 
sent  by  Tesse,  who  commanded  the  land  forces,  did 
not  arrive  until  some  hours  after  the  other.  Chamil- 
lart,  who  received  this  second  courier,  was  piqued  to 
excess  that  Pontchartrain  had  outstripped  him  with 
the  news.  He  declared  that  the  news  did  not  belong 
to  the  navy,  and  consequently  Pontchartrain  had  no 


DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON  477 

right  to  carry  it  to  the  King.  The  public,  strangely 
enough,  sided  with  Chamillart,  and  on  every  side  Pont- 
chartrain  was  treated  as  a  greedy  usurper.  Nobody 
had  sufficient  sense  to  reflect  upon  the  anger  which 
a  master  would  feel  against  a  servant  who,  having  the 
information  by  which  that  master  could  be  relieved 
from  extreme  anxiety,  should  yet  withhold  the  in- 
formation for  six  or  eight  hours,  on  the  ground  that 
to  tell  it  was  the  duty  of  another  servant! 

The  strangest  thing  is,  that  the  King,  who  was  the 
most  interested,  had  not  the  force  to  declare  himself 
on  either  side,  but  kept  silent.  The  torrent  was  so  im- 
petuous that  Pontchartrain  had  only  to  lower  his  head, 
keep  silent,  and  let  the  waters  pass.  Such  was  the 
weakness  of  the  King  for  his  ministers.  I  recollect 
that,  in  1702,  the  Due  de  Villeroy  brought  to  Marly 
the  important  news  of  the  battle  of  Luzzara.  But, 
because  Chamillart  was  not  there,  he  hid  himself,  left 
the  King  and  the  Court  in  the  utmost  anxiety,  and 
did  not  announce  his  news  until  long  after,  when 
Chamillart,  hearing  of  his  arrival,  hastened  to  join 
him  and  present  him  to  the  King.  The  King  was  so 
far  from  being  displeased,  that  he  made  the  Due  de 
Villeroy  Lieutenant-General  before  dismissing  him. 

There  is  another  odd  thing  that  I  must  relate  be- 
fore quitting  this  affair.  Tesse,  as  I  have  said,  was 
charged  with  the  defence  of  Toulon  by  land.  It  was 
a  charge  of  no  slight  importance.  He  was  in  a  country 
where  nothing  was  prepared,  and  where  everything 
was  wanting;  the  fleet  of  the  enemy  and  their  army 
were  near  at  hand,  commanded  by  two  of  the  most  skil- 
ful captains  of  the  day :  if  they  succeeded,  the  kingdom 
itself  was  in  danger,  and  the  road  open  to  the  enemy 
even  to  Paris.  A  general  thus  situated  would  have 
been  in  no  humour  for  jesting,  it  might  have  been 
thought.     But  this  was  not  the  case  with  Tesse.     He 


478  DUKE  OF  SAINT-SIMON 

found  time  to  write  to  Pontchartrain  all  the  details  of 
the  war  and  all  that  passed  amongst  our  troops  in  the 
style  of  Don  Quixote,  of  whom  he  called  himself  the 
wretched  squire  and  the  Sancho;  and  everything  he 
wrote  he  adapted  to  the  adventures  of  that  romance. 
Pontchartrain  showed  me  these  letters;  they  made 
him  die  with  laughing,  he  admired  them  so;  and  in 
truth  they  were  very  comical,  and  he  imitated  that  ro- 
mance with  more  wit  than  I  believed  him  to  possess. 
It  appeared  to  me  incredible,  however,  that  a  man 
should  write  thus,  at  such  a  critical  .time,  to  curry  fa- 
vour with  a  secretary  of  state.  I  could  not  have  be- 
lieved it  had  I  not  seen  it. 


A3! 

iqio 


0204 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

Santa  Barbara 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW. 


SEP  2 


9 


■ 


A 


Series  9482 


